


Children of all ages

by SilverBells



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Circus, M/M, acrobat!Liam, acrobat!niall, and Louis as a clown, because I couldn't not, firebreather!zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBells/pseuds/SilverBells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the greatest show on earth! The circus is about to begin.</p><p>Or, Niall grew up in the circus, Harry didn't, but they both live under extraordinary circumstances and all they really want is each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When I was little I met a boy even smaller than me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue of sorts. Age six and seven.

Niall doesn't like it when they go to England. He prefers the warmer countries of Europe, and America even more because everybody's always so impressed with them.  
Even Asia's better, and when they do go to the British Isles, he'd much rather go to Ireland, where his mommy's from and they all talk like he does. 

No, Niall doesn't enjoy England at all, even though it's miraculously not raining, for a change. He's moping, because Perrie had to stay behind in Belgium to train for the Monte-Carlo festival and the Malik kids are apparently busy with something and now he's got no-one to play with, so he's moping and walking around the field they've been given for their trailers when he spots the boy sitting upside down by the bushes. 

To be fair, Niall's actually the one that's upside down and the boy's sitting quite normally, but he's mopey, so he just stares grumpily at the unfamiliar boy that isn't upside down like Niall. 

He's a few years younger than he is, Niall guesses. Like, five or something, practically a baby. The boy looks like a baby. He has really big eyes and a round face framed by curls that are just a little bit darker coloured than Niall's hair and he's terribly small. He's wearing a faded blue shirt and jeans that are ripped at the knees and he's got blue trainers that, even though he's kinda tiny, look small on him. Niall frowns, because it's September and his mum always tells him months with an R in them need jackets and vitamins. He wonders if the boy is cold. 

“Aren't ya cold?” he asks. 

The boy's head snaps up from where it'd been resting on his knees and stares at Niall, before his head cocks to the side. 

“Why are you walking on your hands?” 

Niall shrugs, which probably looks weird when he's upside down and says, “Because I like it. Are you cold because you like it?”

“No,” is his muttered answer, “I don't like it.”

Niall frowns, and lets himself fall back on his feet, before he shrugs off his jacket. “Here,” he says, mopey thoughts about England all but forgotten, as he hands the boy his green jacket. The boy's eyes, which are also green, widen at it and he insistently shakes his head. “No, that's your jacket.”

“But I'm not cold,” Niall argues and the boy seems to think that's a good point, because he accepts the jacket and pulls it on with one hand. He doesn't use the other one and forces it through the armhole with a grimace on his face. 

“I'm Niall,” Niall offers, as he sits down in front of the boy with his legs crossed. The boy imitates him immediately. 

“'m Harry,” he answers, “'m six.” 

Niall doesn't know why he says that, but he nods. “I'm gonna be eight in four days.” He hold up his hand, but folds his thumb against his palm and grins. The boy smiles back brightly. 

“Why are you sitting by the bushes?” Niall asks next. 

“Wanted to see the circus, but I didn't see the tent,” answers Harry and Niall laughs at him, because the tent's gonna be set up tomorrow, doesn't everyone know that? He tells Harry as much.

Harry apparently doesn't know that and Niall feels bad for him when he pouts, his lower lip stuck out at Niall sadly. 

“I just wanted to see the lions,” he says and he's got Niall laughing again. 

“We don't have lions, dummy,” he giggles, before he jumps to his feet, “But we've got Tanya's dogs.” 

“Dogs?” Harry says excitedly, as he scrambles up as well. 

“Yeah, but they aren't half as cool as Mister Malik,” Niall tells him, as he holds out his hand for Harry to take.  
Harry hesitantly slips his smaller hand inside of Niall's and they smile at each other again, before Niall's tugging Harry towards the circle of trailers. 

“Who's Mister Malik?” Harry shouts. 

“He breathes fire!” Niall calls back, thinking that maybe England isn't so bad. 

***************

Harry comes back the next day, and the day after that and Niall takes him around the camp and the artists and teaches Harry how to do a handstand, which he can't hold for more than a couple of seconds, but they're both extremely proud of him. They watch Mister Malik breathe fire and rope his son Zayn into an elaborate game of tag through the camp and the circus, which they helped set up on the second day. (If helping meant running around to watch everybody else do their job and pull on ropes when there are already two men pulling on it and putting chairs in increasingly sloppy lines.) 

They watch the acrobats practice and stretch and roll all over each other pretending to be just as flexible as they are. Niall actually is pretty bendy and Harry is hopeless, but Niall's mummy teaches them some stretching techniques anyway, before she shoos them off. After that, they find Tanya and her dogs, one of which has recently whelped and the woman lets them play with the puppies until the sun's going down.

The day after that, they head out into an adjecent field and play out whatever scenario comes to mind. First, Niall wants to be a pirate and insists Harry should be his partner and they make 'Arr' noises at each other for a while, before Harry decides he's going to be a mermaid (“Merman, Haz.” “No, I'm a mermaid!”) and he flops around in the grass until Niall's clutching his sides laughing. They figure out a way how to pretend to be underwater and go have adventures there instead. This ends when Niall's mum calls them for lunch and they decide they've arrived on an island where Niall's mum indulgently plays the princess of the island that's invited them for a great feast of sandwiches. 

They head towards the tent in the late afternoon, when Niall knows the artists are taking a break from practice before the show that night and they climb up on the rafters and let themselves fall into the net that hangs underneath it, time and time again until they're both exhausted and panting and just lay there, pressed against each other in the centre of the net and they just talk, until Harry notices it's getting dark and he needs to go home.

Niall hates that part of the day and is dreading the end of the week, when the circus is going to France and he won't get to see Harry any more. He wishes he could always have Harry to play with, because Harry seems like the best person on earth to Niall, even though he's younger, but he can't stay with them. 

He knows this, he's asked Harry, but Harry says his daddy doesn't want him to go with the circus, like Niall and Harry discussed underneath the equipment-trailer, but on the second to last day he promises to ask him again. 

Niall walks him all the way to the edge of the field and squints at the outline of the city in the distance. He doesn't think Harry lives there. His daddy's probably one of the farmers that live in the large houses nearby, otherwise he would have to walk all the way back to the city and Niall knows for a fact that no mummy or daddy would ever allow that. 

“See you tomorrow,” he tells Harry. He hopes he can get Simon to let Harry watch the last show with him, even though that means he'll have to stay until after sundown, but Niall thinks that'll only make it easier to hide him in Niall's trailer for when they leave, so he isn't worried. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, before he squeaks as Niall plants a big, wet kiss on his mouth. He stares at him for a bit, before he breaks out in a grin and returns the favour. He runs off after that and Niall drops forward and walks back to their trailer on his hands. 

**********************

Niall wakes up early the following morning and doesn't even eat breakfast before he's out the trailer and heads towards their bush through the damp grass. He figures he can eat breakfast with Harry later and settles on the exact spot where he found Harry. 

He knows Harry won't be there for a bit, but he's happy to just sit there for a bit and watch the camp wake up. He waves at Zayn and Mister Malik, when they come out of their trailer with Zayn's mum, his little sister perched on her arm and squeals happily when Tanya lets out the dogs and a few of them come over to lick his face. Simon, their ringleader, stretches on the steps of his trailer and Niall can see his hairy belly and giggles, though he smiles brightly at Simon when the man notices him. He always looks really strict and Harry said he's a bit scared of him, but he's actually really nice when you're good. 

Around breakfast time, things quiet down a bit and Niall's mum brings him some toast, assuring him Mister Malik toasted it himself, and chews on that, saving one for Harry, because he will be there any minute now and he waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Harry doesn't come. 

It's around midday that Niall's mum comes up to him again, on a break from her practice, and tells him that maybe Harry isn't coming. Niall insist he is, though. He probably got lost a bit, or had to help his dad on the farm.  
He still doesn't know if Harry's daddy even has a farm, but he's sure something came up. He heads towards the edge of the field and even walks down the road for a bit, looking for Harry. Around four, he's sitting by the bush again. Harry never comes and when the sun sets Niall cries. 

“He promised,” Niall whispers to his mum that night when she tucks him into bed, just after the show. 

“I know, honey,” his mum says, stroking her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I know.” 

He doesn't see Harry again for more than ten years.


	2. And when I grew older, so did he

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they grow up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niall conveniently became an only child for this story, I just realized. Whoops. 
> 
> Also I know shit about circusses really, so I'm calling dramatic lisence on this one.

The circus returns to Harry's city every two years around Niall's birthday, but Harry never shows up and eventually, Niall stops waiting by the bushes. He makes other friends and, as he grows older, colleagues, as he trains to become an acrobat like his mum. 

He's thirteen when Zayn, his sister Doniya and himself are allowed to go to the city by themselves and Liam, the son of a recent family of acrobats that has joined the circus, decides to join them as well. They're going to see a movie, which is not something they're allowed often, so they're all excited, even Niall. Zayn and Liam decide on an X-men movie Niall thinks is the third of the series and it's great, even though he's pretty sure he hasn't seen the second. 

“Oh man, Phoenix was amazing!” Liam marvels when they exit the theatre. He's got a sparkle in his eyes that's mirrored in Zayn's and Niall smiles at them fondly, while Doniya pointedly ignores the packet of cigarettes that Zayn fishes out of his pocket. 

“What the hell kinda name is Famke, though?” he mumbles around his fag, as he lights it with an experienced flick of his lighter. Niall thinks he looks more like a dragon every day, as his friend puffs out a cloud of smoke. It's raining, just a drizzle, and the smoke highlights the drips, little pinpricks of black in the grey. 

“I think it's Dutch,” Liam answers, “Isn't she Dutch?” 

“She's gorgeous, is what she is,” Doniya butts in, before ushering them along the street. It's a no-show day, so Mister Malik has promised to pick them up with one of the cars that pull the trailers. It's nice, because the bus station is four blocks away from the movie theatre and they would've been soaked before they got there. Instead, the black car with the splashes of mud around the tires is waiting for them at the corner of the street. 

Zayn and Liam are still discussing the ending of the film and whether or not professor X and magneto are really gay for each other when they step into the car and Doniya shakes her head at them, before getting in too. Niall is last and just as he's about to get in, he notices a figure running along the side walk on the other side of the street. He's tall and lanky and holding a jacket above his head full of curls and Niall narrows his eyes at the unfortunate sod. There's a spark of recognition in his gut, but– no, can't be. 

“Come on, Niall, close the door, mate!” Zayn yells at him from inside the car, bowed over Doniya's lap to look at him. 

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Niall mumbles back. 

When he looks up again, the side walk is empty. He frowns, and closes the door. It feels like he closed it for another two years. 

*

They return to the field with the bushes when Niall is about to turn fifteen. It breaks the longest period of time Niall has ever gone without thinking about Harry – a whopping five weeks – and it's completely and utterly pathetic, but he has also sort of accepted the fact that meeting Harry was apparently some kind of fixed point in his life that'll be a part of him forever. 

He has made peace with the fact that he'll remember the little boy with the big smile every once in a while and now it only makes him happy instead of just-this-side-of-crying. He'll smile at the memory of the two of them running around the camp and jumping off the rafters into the giant net that he falls into regularly now. It's never the same as recklessly tumbling down like with Harry, though. 

*

“Okay, one more time, I think I can get it now,” Niall tells Liam, after shaking his head repeatedly to get rid of the image of Harry trying to do a handstand. Not now, he needs to focus. 

Liam obediently cups his hands so Niall can place his foot in them. They're in the middle of the ring, practising a bit before the rest of the performers arrive for the afternoon training. Well– it isn't a ring, really, it's more of a podium, but they refer to it as a ring anyway. It's just like the fact that they're not really a circus in the old sense of the word, which features lions and clowns with red noses, but they're more of a traveling performing act, not quite Cirque Du Soleil, but not at all the woodchips and flashy-outfits kind of thing, either. The closest thing he's ever seen that describes what they do is the cirque du freak, from the Darren Shan books. Just a bunch of weirdo talented people putting on a show. Minus the snake-scaled people and actual bearded ladies thing, of course. 

“One, two,” Liam counts and Niall feels his muscles tense, bracing themselves for the toss, “Three!”

With an explosion of power, Liam throws Nial into the air, where Niall backflips and tries to pull his legs in as quickly as possible, to quicken his backward motion, as he tumbles through the air like a ball, before he stretches them again. It feels too quick, and yet like an eterinity, before he feels the crooks of Liam's elbows in his armpits. Liam moves with him for last bit of the fall and then stops him. Niall's feet land softly, but firmly and he's upright again. 

That was– better. 

“You're still a little out of balance,” Liam notes, not a hint of venom or annoyance in his voice. He just wants to perfect the throw for the new show Simon wants them to be part of, just like Niall does. 

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, as he hops up and down on his feet a bit to keep his muscles warm as they go through the throw, “I just need to react quicker when I'm in the air.”

“It's just a practise thing, I think, you'll get it.” Niall swears Liam is the kindest person in the world and he gives the other boy a grateful smile. A lot of other acrobats he's worked with get annoyed with Niall quickly, but Liam never does, never did, and found that with a bit of patience, when Niall does eventually get it right, he gets it _right_. 

They practise the throw for a bit, until they feel it's as close to perfect as it's going to get and just chat until the rest of the performers arrive. Zayn is one of them, and so is Perrie, and they're delighted to learn that Simon has planned a story around the four of them, his youngest performers. 

The gist of it is that Liam and Niall will play two young boys who get lost in the forest and tumble around for a bit with some funny creatures, before getting lured into the scarier parts of it by a dark, fire breathing spirit that leads them to more of its kind. Eventually they will be rescued by a particularly bendy fairy, though, whose friends will distract the spirits, while the Perrie-fairy will lead them back home. Its a simple, but effective story, more about allowing the performers to show off their skills than having a deep plot, but it'll be one of their first major parts in a storyshow and they all do a few backflips to get rid of the excitement when Simon walks away from them. 

They perform the first version of it on their last night in Harry's city, the name of which Niall still hasn't bothered to learn, and he swears he sees a mop of curls somewhere in the back at some point, before his vision is blocked by one of Zayn's fireballs and he doesn't get the chance to look again, but he's almost certain there was a flash of green, just before the light blinded him. 

*

He's sixteen when the Tomlinson family joins the circus, after Simon rescued them from a particularly abusive ringleader, and Niall becomes quick friends with their only son Louis. It's because of him that he finally meets Harry again, almost exactly ten years after the first meeting, when Niall is just shy of turning eighteen. 

*

“Liam, come _on!_ ” Louis yells, banging on the door of the Payne trailer, “Get out, loser, we're going shopping!” 

“We never should have let you watch Mean Girls,” Zayn tells him, from where he's leaning against the side of the trailer, flicking his lighter on and off in an incredibly bored fashion. 

“It isn't my fault I grew up in a cirque with no WiFi,” Louis mutters back, still energetically banging on the door as he glares at Zayn. He's so distracted by the glaring competition that ensues, that when Liam opens the door with an annoyed expression on his face he accidentally bangs his fist on Liam's chest. 

Liam doesn't give an inch, of course. 

“Ow, ow, shit!” Louis yells, cradling his hand against his chest, “What are you wearing, bricks for clothes?” 

Liam snorts and his face softens in the fondly bemused expression he reserves for Louis especially. “Just me,” he replies, before he waves at Zayn and Niall, who are laughing at Louis, “Now, a little bird told me we're going shopping?” 

“I'm not a bird!” Louis exclaims, jabbing at Liam's belly, “You sodding brick wall!” 

“We can't all live off pantomime,” Zayn snarks, proficient as ever in the art of pissing Louis off. 

“Clown, Zayn, I'm a _clown_ ,” he informs the firebreather-in-training. 

“Whatever.”

Louis looks as though he's about to go on a full-fledged rampage and Niall's grateful for Liam, who interferes by grabbing Louis around the waist and lifting him effortlessly over his shoulder. He spares a moment to give Zayn the eyebrow of death and the other boy goes meek immediately. It's a talent Liam has. Louis might be the oldest and Zayn might be the one that's been with the circus the longest, but Liam has that leadership thing that makes Simon look at him thoughtfully. 

Louis also kinda has the leadership thing going on, in a more destructive, can-only-end-badly sort of way, but Liam has the physical advantage and he knows when to press it. Like now, when he's got Louis' wrist and ankle grasped in one hand in front of him, while the remaining limbs flail around him, but he just stands there stoically. 

Normally, Niall'd be laughing at them, especially when Louis screeches an indignant, “Liam!” and struggles against the iron grip the other man has on him, but he doesn't. Instead, he throws a longing glance towards the bush near the edge of the field they're in and sighs deeply. It's hitting him particularly hard this year. 

“Why are we going shopping, anyway?” Liam asks, while completely ignoring Louis. His confusion is understandable, since it's a regular day and they should, technically, spend it training and practising for the show tonight. It's not the one with the forest and the spirits, since Simon think's they've outgrown the innocent boy looks that made that work, but they've got parts in a fun thing loosely based on Tarzan

“Niall's in a mood,” Zayn replies, and Niall pulls a face, but doesn't deny it. 

“Really, still?” 

Zayn shrugs at Liam, who eventually nods and starts carrying Louis towards the road, while Zayn and Niall trod after them. 

Zayn keeps pleasantly quiet and leaves Niall to his thoughts, because he knows that Niall usually just needs a bit of time and peace and quiet to work through his issues. It isn't surprising, really, out of all of them, Zayn and Niall have known each other the longest, with both of their parents being permanent members of the circus practically since both of them were born, and they've been friends for ages. Heck, Zayn was the one that helped Niall bleach his hair for the first time at age twelve, and though they've naturally gravitated more towards Liam and Louis respectively, because Liam understands and is comfortable with Zayn's quietness and occasional broody moods and Louis is a riot that makes Niall cackle like a witch, Zayn knows a lot of things about Niall that the others don't. This includes Harry. 

Niall is grateful that he pretends it's just another of Niall's – admittedly rare – bad moods, instead of informing the others it's a bi-annual bad mood specifically attached to this city in England and the continuous absence of a curly boy. 

It's ridiculous, that he still feels as sad as he was when he was eight-technically-seven and sitting beneath that bush. He's almost nineteen, now, and it really shouldn't bother him any more, or so much, but it does. He still wonders what happened to Harry that day, why he didn't come. He still feels the rejection, but also the childlike excitement and wonder that accompanies the thought of Harry, always. He considers Harry one of his first real friends, since Zayn had been really shy at that point in their life and there hadn't been a lot of other circus kids that Niall really clicked with. In fact, he never clicked as quick with anyone quite the way he had with Harry. 

The road towards the city hasn't changed much, though the skyline of the city itself has a bit. Niall walks it both in the present and in the past as his younger self looking for Harry. It takes a lot less time to walk as far as he had when he was a kid and even less to arrive at the bus stop he hadn't even known was there at the time.

He spends the ride towards the city watching Zayn and Louis bicker over something, while Liam plays peace keeper and thinks that, yeah, maybe a little shopping and a change of scene will help. He doesn't associate the city itself with anything and he finds himself having fun just window-shopping with the boys and kicking their asses at an arcade racing game. Louis beats all of them at the dance game and Liam punches the strength-testing punching-bag so hard the whole machine reverberates and Zayn's basketball skills win them the last points they need to all go home with a small superhero figurine. 

It's almost dark when they find themselves back on the street to head back to the busstation, and Louis is doing an anecdote on clowns and football or whatever when Niall, who is walking up front, walks head-first into a chest that isn't quite as sturdy as Liam's, but still makes him topple back. He lands hard on his bum and swears loudly, before looking up at the person he ran into. 

The man doesn't make a move to try and help him up and just sneers at Niall from where he stands. He's tall, but also pretty wide and has a round, blotchy face that looks pretty pissed. Both because anger and obvious drunkness. 

“Watch where you're walking, you little twat!” he spits, literally _spits_ , at Niall, before he shoulders past Zayn and Liam and walks off. Niall looks after him with a sneer and sticks out his tongue. 

“Well you're a fat twat,” Louis mumbles, from where he has crouched beside Niall to help him up and Niall's halfway towards a smile when he hears a dumbfounded, “Niall?”

His smile turns into a frown, because it's not Louis and it doesn't sound like Zayn or Liam either, but it's familiar and when he looks up his jaw drops, because there's a boy with green eyes and dark brown hair and a T-shirt that's too small for him staring at him from the exact same spot the man was just in. 

“Harry!” he says, breaking out in the promised smile of two seconds ago for a completely different reason. 

He hears Zayn's echoed “Harry?!” and Louis and Liam's questioned, “Who?” behind him, but he pays them no mind as he surges up and wraps his arms around Harry's neck, which– okay, this is probably a little weird, because he hasn't seen the other lad for over ten years and who says Harry missed him the way he did? 

He makes to let go of the other boy immediately, but then there are arms wrapped around his waist and they're hugging him and then he's hugging too and it's like he's eight again and it's the last day of the week except Harry actually showed up and this is what happened instead. He squeezes Harry close to his chest, ignoring Louis' sounds of confusion. 

He can't ignore the sound of pain Harry makes when he squeezes him, though, and he lets go quickly to check if he's okay and the other boy looks at him sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” he says, “You're pretty strong?” 

Niall laughs at that and replies, “It's all the handwalking, I think,” and just like that Harry's smiling again and holy _shit_ how is it that he doesn't remember Harry having dimples? _Dimples_. 

He hasn't changed much, overall, Niall notes. His face has lengthened a bit, but it still has the roundness Niall remembers, and the nose that's slightly too large and the pouty lips. Niall just stares at him for a bit, taking it in and it shouldn't feel like this, it shouldn't be this easy to see a boy he hasn't seen in ten years and think 'yeah, there you are, that's you'. 

He realizes belatedly that they're kind of staring at each other and that there's only so much ignoring Louis is probably willing to put up with so he turns around, clears his throat, and points at his friends, “Harry, meet Zayn and Liam and our personal drama queen,” – “Hey!” – “Louis.”

Harry waves at them, laughing a little at Louis' mock-offended face. “Hi, Zayn,” he says, to the only other boy he knows, and Niall is impressed he remembers him, too, “Hi Louis and Liam.” 

“Guys, this is Harry!” 

“And who, pray tell, is Harry?” Louis asks, eyes narrowed. 

“He's–” Niall hesitates, looking at Harry before almost asking him, “my friend?” 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, “Childhood friend, I think.” 

“They met when Nialler was seven and they knew each other for like five days and Niall's been in love and pining over him ever since.” 

“ _Zayn!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a beta, because I don't have one. 
> 
> I do have a tumblr, which isn't much of a 1D blog (that's hazazaz, but I don't use that all that often) my personal is silence-isn't-silver. 
> 
> Whuzza, next chapter probably won't be up as quick as this one. Exams man.


	3. It was like nothing had changed at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay I did not mean for this thing to escalate this quickly, but the characters literally just ran away from me with this and I'm just hanging on for the ride.

“Why didn't you come?” 

They're sitting by the bush, finally after all those years, and Niall thinks it's telling that it doesn't feel any different than it did ten years ago, except the bush looks a lot smaller now. 

Harry silently tugs at the grass next to his feet. Niall notices he's not wearing socks. 

It should have been awkward, and Niall's pretty sure Harry feels pretty out of place, but it doesn't really bother him. He just wants to know the reason behind one of the biggest disappointments of his childhood. 

Louis would be proud of the dramatic tone that sentence gained in his head. 

“I did come,” Harry says eventually, looking up at Niall through a fringe of curls in dire need of a haircut, “I did, when I was fourteen. I heard you were in town and I tried to... I finally– I watched on the last night. Your show and– I was there. I saw you. You were fantastic.”

Niall stares at him, taking in Harry's silhouette as he refuses to look at him. The curls that stick out in front of his forehead and the bumpy sticky-out bit of his nose and the delicate curve of his lips and the line of his throat as he swallows. The question of why he didn't come to see Niall after the show is hanging, unanswered, in the air between them. 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, deciding that if Harry doesn't want to talk about it, they don't have to. What right does he have, anyway? Harry doesn't owe him an answer, he doesn't owe him anything.

“I can do a handstand now,” Harry says after a moment of pauze, in which they both accept their silent deal, “I've been practising.” 

Niall smiles, “Show me,” and watches Harry get up and breathe in, before doing a simple, if a little wobbly, handstand. Niall could do a handstand like that in his sleep. He does one-hand handstands while balanced on Liam's head, for crying out loud, but he claps anyway and Harry smiles sheepishly. 

“The others are probably on a break right now,” Niall finds himself telling Harry. He wonders if Harry remembers the performers do that around four in the afternoon, “D'ya wanna jump off the rafters for a bit? I could teach you to do a backflip?” 

Harry's blinding smile is answer enough. 

*

“Did you really miss me?” is the first thing Harry asks him. _Really_ asks him. He's asked about Niall's mum and his life in the circus now that he's a performer and even Tanya's puppies, most of which were sold years ago, but this, this is a real question. Niall doesn't hesitate with his 'yes' for a moment, though. He turns his head to look at Harry where he's lying pressed against Niall's side in the net. 

Harry looks back, this time, has gotten over whatever it was that made him feel awkward around Niall for a bit and smiles. 

“Me too,” he says and there's an adorable blush spreading over his face, “I missed you too.” 

There's a moment of heavy tension between them, before Niall asks, “D'you go to school now?” 

Harry pulls a face, but nods, “Yeah. Most of the time, anyway. I still have to, but I don't always– you know. It's not really my thing?”

Niall wants to shake his head, but suddenly there are fingers tangling in his hair, curiously stroking a few bleached locks between them. 

“Isn't mine, either,” Niall says instead, curious eyes on Harry, “Me mum gives me a choice every year, the circus or school, since there's still time for me, but it's never even been an option. Mum home-schooling me is good enough.” 

Harry smiles at that. “She's smart,” he says, “I remember she tricked us into eating something by making it look like dog food so we could eat with the dogs.”

Niall laughs, which sets Harry off into adorable giggles as well and for a moment the entire net vibrates with their laughter and then Harry's looking at his hair again. 

“When did you do this?” 

“When I was twelve or summat,” Niall responds, closing his eyes to fully enjoy Harry's fingers scratching over his scalp, “Wanted to look different, but not _too_ different, so.”

Harry hums and it's a joyful, happy noise that somehow delights Niall completely. The delight is crushed, though, when Harry sighs and turns his head to look at the entrance of the tent. The red and purple colouring of it is lit up by orange and Niall knows whatthat means. 

“It's getting dark,” Harry says, and Niall lipsyncs the words. 

“You should head home,” he says, as he sits up to look down at the other boy, “Do you really have to? You can stay, it's not a problem.”

“No,” Harry says, resolutely, “No, I should really go home. My dad– he'll be home soon and I'm, I'm supposed to cook dinner n' stuff.”

“Okay.” Niall can't stop the tone of sadness that creeps into his voice, but manages a weak smile. “Promise me, though,” he asks Harry, “Promise me you'll come back tomorrow?”

Harry looks doubtful and it's like the biggest fear he never realized he had; finding Harry and immediately loosing him again. Harry's hand twitches towards Niall's face and he grabs it. His hand is broad and long, but skinny. It's cold as well, when Niall presses it against his cheek. 

“Please,” he begs him, “Please, promise me you'll come back. I'm only here for a week and–” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry promises, “I'll try, I really will.” His hand strokes over Niall's cheek for a bit, before the warmth of it is gone and Harry's climbing out of the net, in the exact same way he did ten years ago and he's like a tall memory and Niall doesn't follow him. He just flops back in the net and sighs. 

It doesn't take long before his body is practically launched up in the air when another lands a few feet away from him, before it rolls towards the centre and collides with Niall, who immediately recognises Louis' small, curvy body pressed against him where Harry was only minutes ago. 

“So,” Louis says, a bit out of breath, as if he's only just stopped cackling like he did after Zayn's announcement, “Tell me about Harry.” 

“There's not much to tell, really,” Niall sighs at him, “Zayn summed it up pretty well. Met 'im when I was seven and we were friends for four days, but he never showed up on the fifth. Waited for him all day.” The _I waithed for him for over ten years_ goes unsaid.

He doesn't want to look at Lou, because he'll see the sadness and pity creep into Louis' big, blue eyes and that's never something he wants to see. Louis is the kind of person that's always got a grin on his face, his tongue in his cheek and a witty comeback in the back of his throat. 

“Nialler,” Louis says, poking him in the side, “Please tell me you haven't really been crushing on a five-year-old for ten years.”

Niall laughs and finally manages to look at his friend. To his surprise, it's not sad-comforting-mother-hen-Louis that he finds, but it's amused-if-a-little-worried-Louis that's looking at him, which is a lot better, but still confusing. 

“I– not really? Sort of,” he manages, after his laughter has subsided, “It's not like that, it's...” 

And that's just it, isn't it? He doesn't even know what it is or why Harry has been a constant presence in the back of his mind for years now. It's the weirdest thing in the world to see him again as a sixteen-year-old, instead of the toddler he was, but it's also _better_ , because Harry's gotten really handsome, even if he's a little shy, still, but that only serves to make him more adorable and– his trail of thoughts is interrupted.

“Nialler, Nialler, hey,” Louis mumbles at him, while gently poking at Niall's side, “It's okay, it doesn't have to be anything.”

Niall halfheartedly bats at Louis' hands and shoots him a questioning look. 

“Doesn't really matter why, does it?” says Louis, a contemplative expression on his face, “But you did, and now he's here, isn't he? Maybe it means something and maybe it doesn't, but I saw the way he looked at you and I don't think you're the only one who has kept those four days close.”

Niall stares at the boy, who pronounces all those profound words with a drawled yorkshire accent and manages to say things that shouldn't make sense, but do. 

“Really?” 

“Niall, sweet, blind, completely blunt Irish object, he looked at you like you were the second coming who hung the moon with the sun shining out of his arse.”

“You should really stop mixing up your metaphores.” 

*

That night, Niall dreams about Harry. It isn't the first time, but instead of a small, smiling child, it features a lanky, shyly grining, teenage boy. 

They're flying, is what Niall thinks at first, until his dream-logic tells him that no, they're falling, except there's no destination. No floor or ground to crash into, just falling. It feels strangely relaxing and Niall smiles at the puffs of white mist or smoke or whatever it is that surrounds him. 

_Clouds_ , his brain supplies. 

Niall just laughs and looks over at Harry, who is trying to do an awkward backflip, like Niall tried to teach him when they were jumping off the rafters, except that last jump never ended. 

Harry gives up on the backflip – he's never going to get it, that's okay – and instead reaches for Niall with a hand that's gotten so much broader than the one Niall grabbed as a kid and it's amazing. 

Niall's hand has gotten broader too and they fit nicely together, in Niall's dream. 

* 

Harry shows up the next morning, just like he promised, except instead of surrounded by angel-clouds, he shows up in his customary tight, blue shirt accessorized with a split lip and a black eye a boxer would be proud of. 

“Harry!” Niall calls, happy beyond reason that Harry showed up, before halting when he is able to take a good look at the other boy, who looks worryingly akin to a kicked puppy, “ _Harry!_ What happened?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Harry assures him, trying to smile, but wincing at the strain that apparently puts on his lip, “I fell over 's all. 'm really clumsy.”

Niall smiles fondly, because _of course_ the small boy that suddenly grew stilts for legs would be clumsy. He has no doubt Harry is actually one of those boys that just shot up, Zayn was the same, he stumbled around for months during and after his growth-spurts. 

“C'mon, we'll get you something for that,” he tells him, grabbing Harry's hand like in his dream, except this time there's actual warmth and weight in his palm as he drags Harry after him (careful of lumps and holes in the ground, now that he knows) towards Simon's trailer. “Simon's our emergency response person, he does courses and stuff.”

Harry resists for a bit, but seems unable to resist the promise of soothing balms. 

A voice in Niall's head that sounds decidedly Louis-like mumbles that he might just be unable to resist _Niall_ , but that's simply ridiculous.

“What's this then, Niall?” Simon says, “Knee acting up again?”

“Hello mr. Cowell,” says Harry's voice from behind Niall, who is genuinely impressed by Harry's ability to remember names, “Erm- I think we're here for me, yeah?”

He looks at Niall for the last bit and Niall nods in response, “Wondered if you've some stuff for his eye.”

Simon takes one look at Harry's face, frowns, and then ushers them in, “Of course, of course, come in. I've got just the thing.”

He puts Harry on a stool that's just a little too small for him and Niall can't help but giggle. Harry looks at him sideways and goes a little cross-eyed, because his chin is held in the vice that is Simon's left hand. The other hand gently applies some sort of white crème on Harry's black eye and Niall can see Harry's jaw tense when he gingerly rubs it into the skin. It's still a bit round, but Niall can see a bit of definition in the curve of it. 

Harry's lip is next and he also can't help but notice how plump and red it is and how utterly - he really needs to stop this thought process. 

Niall shakes his head and a stray strand of hair falls in his face. He blows at it, and it makes Harry laugh, which causes Simon to scowl at both of them and he kicks them out, if gently and with a properly tended to Harry. 

He smacks both of them on the shoulder and tells them to be careful and Harry shrinks a little in what is probably embarrassment. 

“Can we go to the tent again?” he asks, almost meekly and Niall nods. 

This time, though, they're not alone, and both boys are practically flocked by the performers. 

“Harry,” says a tall man with Zayn's nose and his dark hair in a ponytail, “My, my, how you've grown!” 

Niall is pretty certain most of them know he's called Harry thanks to the gossip Louis has undoubtedly been spreading and the fact that the tightrope girls have, without a doubt, cornered and interrogated Zayn – who is unable to say no to pleading women's eyes, bless him – to find out who he is and what he means to Niall. 

Liam probably told them to go easy on him, but as per usual, his plea has gone unheard. 

“Hello mister Malik,” says Harry, and– wow, again, A+ naming skills, Harry.

“He remembers me!” mister Malik croons, in his typical overdramatic way, “Oh, I do like this one! Come on then, come on, with us, we were just about to have lunch!”

Just like that, they're being roped into an impromptu picnic in the middle of the ring – “Can we really eat on the podium?” Harry asks excitedly – and it's all sorts of embarrassing. 

Zayn and Liam are already there and they smile broadly at Niall, identical knowing looks on their faces, while Perrie, recently returned from a few months with the cirque as part of KOOZA, and the tightrope girls coo over Harry like he's one of Tanya's puppies. 

Harry looks slightly uncomfortable, but also kind of like he enjoys the attention. He almost looks like he's been starved of it for years and is suddenly getting a fix. He's preening under their attention, but, to Niall's utter delight, also stays close to Niall and, at one point, even makes a grab for his hand. 

It's a bit clumsy and their fingers slide together a bit awkwardly at first, but then they find a way to make them fit together and keep it that way, as the Tomlinson family arrives and Louis' flock of half-sisters descends on them, asking all kinds of giggly questions like how Harry got his bruises and if he's a boxer or a secret super-hero, if he actually lives in the city, in an actual house and if he has an actual family, if Harry is Niall's boyfriend and if they're going to get married and have babies like their mum while Louis cackles at the increasingly uncomfortable faces he pulls. Harry answers no, no, yes, yes, I have a father and a hesitant no with a glance towards Niall. 

The British boy doesn't say much after that, but thankfully, Jay, Louis' mum, eventually saves him from answering and Niall has a feeling the girls are going to get a nice story about birds and bees before bed tonight. 

It's nothing compared to the contortionists, who literally bend themselves over Harry and ask him all sorts of questions about his intentions with their Niall, until Niall himself shoos them off, laughing and threatening to tie them into knots, before he drags his curly haired boy away from all of them. He leads them away from the trailers, until they're strolling through the field they played in that one time. It's not quite as sunny as it was then, but warm enough to wander around for a bit, though Niall eyes the grey clouds in the distance with suspicion. Fucking England. 

At one point, Harry starts flailing around a bit and Niall thinks he's having an aneurism for a second, before he realizes Harry's being a mermaid again and he can't resist tackling Harry to the ground, as he would if he were seven, still. 

To his surprise, Harry doesn't respond to his prompting of playful fighting, but instead scrambles away from him, one hand in front of his face and the other around his torso. 

“Oh shit, is it your face?” Niall worries immediately, reaching for Harry apologetically, “Sorry, I forgot, are you okay?”  
His fingers touch Harry's face gingerly, carefully tracing the edge of the bruise around his eye and smiling when Harry smiles and shakes his head. 

“It's okay, it just smarts a little.”

“Is the salve helping, at least?” Niall asks, suddenly a bit worried again, but Harry nods and assures him his eye feels much better. 

It's then that Niall realizes how close they are, lying on their sides with their chests practically pressed together and he's suddenly very aware of the two layers of fabric separating them. The fact that they're practically the same height, which aligns their lips almost perfectly, isn't helping. Harry's lips...

“They're nice,” Harry says, and Niall agrees, before he realizes the boy in front of him can't actually read his mind. 

“Who? My family, you mean?” because, yeah, that's logical. 

“Yeah,” Harry smiles, “They're a bit –”

“Insane, completely improper, my actual worst nightmares?”

“– a bit overwhelming,” Harry finishes shyly. 

“Sorry about the third degree,” Niall offers and pulls his face into a sympathetic grimace, “We're all pretty tight, I've known most of them since– well, since before I met you.”

“I am really sorry about that,” Harry says silently, almost in a whisper, “I really wanted to come, but– some stuff happened and I just...” 

“'s Okay, you're here now, aren't you?” 

Harry smiles, though not as broadly as he probably would if his lip wasn't split and touches his index finger to Niall's cheek and he looks thoughtful for a second. “Tell me about your family? Like, the circus one? They're you're family, right?” 

Niall nods, almost bumping noses with Harry as he does, they're that close. He tells Harry everything about Zayn, who has been through everything with Niall, including puberty, and how much they mean to each other, even if it's usually expressed silently. He tells him of Liam, about how kind he is and how shy he was at first and how well they work together, that he trusts Liam with both his body and his mind. He laughs when he tells Harry about Louis, all the mischief and the pranks, but also about the slightly insecure, kind part of Louis, who grew up in a circus where the artists were treated like scum and worked to their bones until it got shut down, thank god. How fiercely protective he is of his sisters and his new-found brothers.

He shares his memories, while Harry looks at him with his big green eyes. It's as though he's drinking in every word, as if he can look through Niall's own blue eyes and into his mind and experience it with him; the barbecues with mister Malik, who would light the barbecue with a ball of flames to entertain the children, the wrapped box that one of the contortionists gave the other for their birthday, with the third folded up inside of it, his first time training with the rest of the performers, after years of playful exercises. 

He slowly becomes aware of the fact that he's babbling, sharing meaningless – and yet the most important – stories with Harry while the other boy seems content to just listen to him. 

“What about you?” he asks at a certain point, his face still so close to Harry that it would be all too easy to lean in and just kiss him. 

“What about me?”

“What's your life like?”

Harry looks away and Niall feels the loss of his eyes on him keenly, as he watches Harry worriedly. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Harry assures him immediately, “it's just– my life is so boring compared to yours. I mean you get to travel the world and perform and I'm just here, living my boring life.”

“It's not all that great, you know,” Niall responds, not quite convinced. 

“But you've been to _America_ ,” says Harry. 

That makes Niall laugh and he knows Harry can feel the vibrations from where they're touching. The contact points feel like beacons on his body. 

“America isn't all that great either, actually,” Niall assures him, with a last chuckle. 

“Tell me about it.”

Niall does, but halfway through his story the grey clouds finally reach them and it starts to rain. Typical. 

“Aaagh, fucking England!” Niall cries, as the two of them scramble up and start running back towards the camp, as the rain, with increasing denseness, pours down on them.

Harry laughs, only a step or so behind Niall, who leads them towards the trailer he's been sharing with Liam for the last few years. He runs up the double steps towards the door and rips it open, letting Harry go first, before he slams the door shut behind him. 

“Fucking England,” he repeats when they're safe and dry in the confines of the trailer, surrounded by the familiar hardwood he's been sleeping in for years, and Harry laughs again, shaking out his curls from where he stands, dripping on the small rug that lays in front of the door and never quite aligns with it. 

“I'll get us some towels,” Niall grumbles and steps onto the build-in couch to reach for one of the high cupboards that contains their towels and washcloths. He picks a blue one and a green one, purely coincidentally, and hands the latter to Harry. 

“Thanks,” Harry says gratefully. 

“Don't mention it.”

“No really,” the dripping brunet stresses, “Thanks. For everything.”

Niall looks at him quizzically. He looks Harry up and down trying to decide on what he means. Harry looks positively adorable, is what he eventually concludes, with his dripping curls that make him look a bit like baby Tarzan and his shuffling, pigeon-toed feet and the way he nervously picks at the towel. 

He might as wel admit it to himself, he's a little gone for Harry.

“You've been so nice to me, you and your family,” Harry says then, his voice quiet and earnest, “And you took care of me and I don't think I've been this happy in a very long while.” 

His words hit Niall straight in the gut and he lets out a sad sort of whine, before he lets himself fall forward and stumbles into Harry, his lips clumsily seeking out the plump ones he might or might not have wanked off to last night. Shh. 

To his delight, Harry responds immediately, despite the cut in his lip that must sting. Outside of the little bump, though, Harry's lips are incredibly soft and plump, a nice contrast to Niall's slimmer, rougher ones. He licks at them until they open and he can taste deeper, taste more of Harry. He tastes a little like bananas, inexplicably, and of wet boy and despite the fact that neither of them have a lot of finesse, it's the best. It's the absolute best. 

There's hands on his cheeks and his own circle around Harry's middle and then they're stumbling and falling into the small counter that functions as both bathroom and kitchen.

Harry wheezes and the sound of distress is enough to immediately make Niall pull back. “Shit, again, shit, I'm constantly hurting you I'm so sorry.”

His hands are higher on Harry's torso now and he can tell it's uncomfortable for the other boy. "What happened to your ribs?"

“They're a bit bruised, too, from the fall,” Harry explains breathlessly, “I fell down the stairs, quite high, too. Landed wrong.”

“Oh,” Niall says, just as breathless and staring at Harry while both worry and desire are fighting for dominance in his head. _Hormones are really confusing_ , a thought in the back of his head tells him, while another reminds him of the fact that he's not currently kissing Harry which is a shame, really, so he says, “I'll be careful then.”

Their next kiss is almost just as desperate, but also steadier, as if they've both accepted the fact that they're really doing this. Their lips move against each other, warm, slick and a little sloppy, but loving in a way that Niall hasn't ever experienced, not even when he kissed Zayn that one time (even though he loves Zayn to death) or when he fooled around with Louis for a bit, before the clown got together with silk-dancer Eleanor. 

At some point, Harry has a moment of boldness and they end up sprawled on Niall's tiny bed, with Harry on top of him, allowing Niall to feel the entire outline of Harry's body against his. Harry's ankles, bare, after they fumbled and hopped around to take their shoes off while trying to keep their lips attached, are hooked around Niall's and his slim legs fit neatly in between his muscled ones. Harry seems to go on forever and Niall can't seem to figure out where he begins, his endless torso pressed against Niall from hips to shoulders, or ends, with his large, spidery hands fisted in the sheets. 

_He's so skinny_ , an errand thought supplies unhelpfully, as his own hands slide up, over Harry's damp shirt and past his ribs, to bury themselves into his hair. He can feel the vague outline of bones beneath his skin. 

He can't quite seem to focus on it, though, too distracted by the feeling of Harry's body and the surprising softness of his damp hair. Niall twists his fingers in the dark mop of curls, tugging until Harry lets out his first, unexpected and maddeningly soft moan. 

And Niall is greedy, _so greedy_ , so he sucks on Harry's tongue and scrapes his nails over his scalp and presses his thigh between Harry's and feels something tug and tense in his stomach when Harry moans louder. It's a surprised, desperate kind of noise and Niall smiles into the kiss. He can tell Harry has approximately zero experience with this, so he lets his hand find Harry's hips and pushes at them to turn him around. He tries to be gentle, but Harry still ends up letting out a little 'oof', before Niall captures his lips again. 

He feels like the dampness of their clothing is a problem, so he tugs his shirt over his head and looks down at Harry when he frantically tries to do the same, but gets stuck a little and Niall has to help him wiggle out of the tight, blue monstrosity until they're both giggling. 

Once the thing is off, it reveals a smooth expanse of pale skin with several birthmarks scattered all over and, to Niall's amusement, four nipples, though the excess two look more like moles than anything. 

“I was right,” he mumbles against Harry's mouth, pushing him back on the bed by that contact point alone. He suckles lightly on the plump lower lip and Harry practically moans his response. 

“'bout what?” 

“You do belong in the circus, you're a freak like me,” Niall tells him, as he gently rubs at Harry's chest.  
Harry throws his head back in laughter and it's the loudest Niall has heard him be all day. Quite frankly it's the loudest he's heard him be, ever. He doesn't comment on it and just enjoys the bark of laughter, as he attaches his mouth to the skin of Harry's throat. 

Harry's laughter fades into a surprised, “Oh.” 

He bends his head to place soft, sweet kisses against Niall's face and the circus-boy has a feeling that he's thanking him again, so he just smiles and allows Harry to kiss along his jaw, before meeting him in an open mouthed kiss. 

His hands, meanwhile, wander downwards and one of them fits itself around Harry's middle, while the other slides past his belt and rubs gently over the other lad's groin. 

Harry immediately freezes and lets out a tiny sound of distress. Niall backs off immediately, and as soon as his body leaves room for Harry to move, the boy is scrambling away and pressing himself against the wall. 

“I–” he pants, “I, sorry, I'm not...”

“Shh,” Niall lifts his hand in the ancient I'm-not-going-to-harm-you-look-I've-got-no-weapons-way and stares at Harry with worry, “It's okay. What's wrong?” The soft arousal that's been running through him has been replaced with ice-cold worry, as he looks into the wide, green eyes. Harry's pupils are blown wide by either arousal or fear, Niall isn't sure and it's freaking him out. Did he do something? Did he hurt the other in any way?

He's already beating himself up for upsetting his beautiful boy when Harry manages a choked, “Sorry, I just– I panicked. Sorry.” 

“'s Okay, did I...?”

“What? No- no!” Harry's face is a pasty sort of white, making his lips stand out in such contrast that Niall is momentarily distracted and allows Harry to crawl back into his lap, “You're perfect.”

Then, Harry's lips are back on his and they're a little hurried and a bit crazed and Niall responds with confusion. 

“You didn't do anything, you can– you can, if you want to,” is mumbled into his mouth and then he feels skinny hips move against his own and it's all sorts of overwhelming, but there's a strong tug of _no, wrong!_ in his gut that makes him pull away from the slightly frantic snog. 

He holds Harry's head in his hands for a second, feeling so much older than the other boy all of a sudden. “Hey, calm down. We don't have to do anything you don't want to, relax.”

Now it's Harry's turn to look confused, “You don't– you don't want me?” And there's a sudden sparkle to his eyes that Niall doesn't like at all. 

“No, no, that's not what I meant, no,” he reassures the boy in his lap immediately, wrapping him in his arms and pulling him closer. Harry rests his head on Niall's shoulder and mumbles another apology. “None of that, it's fine. You're beautiful and I'd love to, but not if you're not ready.”

“Okay,” Harry whispers, “Okay. Thank you. Okay. Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me,” Niall chuckles, “It's fine, really. We can just, be here for a bit. I could put on a movie or something. Would you like that?” 

“Yeah, yeah I'd love that.” 

His voice still sounds brittle, but there's a watery smile on Harry's face and Niall takes it, pressing Harry back on the bed and getting out of it himself to hand Harry his shirt and pull on his own, before he goes to nose through his and Liam's DVD-collection. 

They settle on some marvel movies that Harry has apparently never seen and, of course, that has to be rectified immediately. 

Harry laughs his loud, breathy laugh again when Niall assures him Zayn would tie him to a chair and force-feed him comics if he knew and he's only looking out for Harry's continued wellbeing, really. 

He puts his laptop on his knees in lieu of an actual television, but this turns out to be a great move when Harry puts his head on Niall's shoulder under the excuse of wanting to see the screen better, even though Niall turned it towards him. 

They work their way through Iron Man, and are halfway through the Incredible Hulk when the rain ends. After Captain America, dusk has begun to set in and Harry announces he has to go home. 

After he gets up, he presses a hesitant, but firm kiss to Niall's lips and smiles so brightly that Niall is tempted to poke his finger into his dimple, before he dashes out the door. 

Zayn and Liam burst through it not a minute later, obviously having seen Harry leave, and they find Niall with a dreamy expression on his face and the credits of the first Avenger running on his laptop and they fuss and cackle over his kiss-bruised lips and the rumpled sheets. They get into a brief, playful tousle over it, too, before they have to get ready for the show, but there's an undercurrent of worry that runs in the background of Niall's thoughts for the rest of the night, even during the performance. 

Because as much as he looks like him, Harry isn't the innocent, happy, little boy he met underneath the bushes any more. He has grown and changed, mostly for the better, he's more beautiful than in any of Niall's memories, but he can't help but worry. About the bruises and the shyness, about the episode on his bed and the ensuing almost-tears. 

There's something going on and he can't put his finger on what, but he swears to himself that he's going to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've recently discovered I really enjoy writing people's stupid headcanon's, so if you've got something you want someone to write for you, leave me a message here or on tumblr ([hazazaz](http://hazazaz.tumblr.com/%20)) and I'll see what I can do, because I have a feeling that I'm going to need some distraction from the sheer hugeness of this story, sigh)


	4. except, it had never been what I recall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's late and I'm sorry it's relatively short, but life got hectic all of a sudden and I needed to focus on school and like, life for a bit. 
> 
> But I passed most of my exams, so I'll hopefully be able to write a bit more consistently.

Harry walks into the tent the next day while Niall, Liam and the other acrobats are practising for a new part of the show Simon has planned for the winter, when their summer-routines of elves, romance and leaves for clothes don't work any more. 

“Family, that's what the cold months are about,” Simon is shouting at them, as they're all happily jumping and twirling about, pretending to be a family of particularly flexible people. Perrie is standing to the side, black sticks in hand which will eventually grow into larger ones she'll do her performance on. It's quite the clever take on the classic 'the little match girl', except their story has a happier ending in which they all accept Perrie as one of their own, even though she's different. 

“Harry!” Niall shouts, while he's backflipping towards Liam, who barely has the time to put him on his feet before Niall dashes over to his boy. 

“Hey,” says Harry, shyly, as he returns the kiss Niall presses to his lips immediately. He does so hesitantly and startles when a few of the other acrobats start howling at them. 

“Niall!” Simon says, quite sternly, but with a tell-tale fond crinkle in the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh! Shit– I'm not interrupting, am I?” Harry asks, his eyes wide as he looks at Simon – who is admittedly a little intimidating when you don't know he owns one of Tanya's old puppies that was deemed too sickly to even make it past the night before he came in – and Niall kisses him again in reassurance, before he ushers Harry towards Perrie at the edge of the stage. 

“Pez! Take care of my boy for a bit, yeah?” 

Perrie laughs, and Zayn, who is lounging on one of the audience-chairs behind her, practically cackles before he pats the chair next to him. Harry sits down hesitantly, but seems to relax when Zayn starts explaining what they're doing. 

Niall breezes through the rest of the practice and even gets an approving slap on the shoulder from Simon when he calls it quits for the day and reminds them to have their make up on by seven at the latest for the show. Niall just smiles, before he jogs over to the side of the ring. Zayn and Louis, who are now flanking Harry on either side, are part of a different segment of the winter-show, something about an orphan boy who runs away without considering the fact that it's snowing and meets a firebreather and his son, who keep him warm and entertained and then something else happens – Niall isn't exactly sure, he's been quite distracted lately. 

“Niall!” Harry calls, unconsciously echoing Niall's earlier cry of his own name, and he looks particularly relieved to see him. Niall has a few ideas as to why and their names are Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson. 

“Don't worry, I've come to save you from the freaks,” he tells Harry, easily dodging a mock-offended nipple-twist from Louis, while he pretends not to notice Zayn's glare. 

“Look who's talking, snakey,” Louis grumbles at him, managing to get a good poke into Niall's ribs before he hoists himself up on the podium, “Better be careful with this one, Haz, he'll slither his way down your body and suck your brains out through your dick.”

As expected – because Louis is a cunt – Harry immediately starts spluttering and blushes to the tips of his ears. 

The bright red colour of Harry's cheeks is almost worth the insult, but Niall can't help but notice how starkly it contrasts with the bruises that still linger on his face, though they've gone yellowish at the edges. 

He hasn't forgotten his promise to himself, so he just gently skims his knuckles over Harry's jaw before he waves at Zayn in goodbye and tugs Harry away. 

He's fully planning on taking Harry to his trailer to sit him down and have a conversation, but as soon as they walk through the door Harry gives him this coy sort of look and bites his lower lip and Niall has him pressed back against the door with his tongue in his mouth within seconds. 

The door creaks in protest, because Niall used it to stop the impact of his own body against Harry's by slamming both of his hands into it before he nudged the other boy against it with his hips. Harry seems to appreciate it, because he smiles against Niall's mouth and tugs him even closer. They're both desperate for friction and touch and – holy _shit_. 

Before he knows it, Harry's hands, so much bolder than he remembers, are underneath his shirt and the skin-on-skin contact numbs his entire body apart from where Harry's fingers are touching him. 

It takes a great deal of mental slapping for him to wrap his fingers around Harry's wrists, and the fact that they wrap around them all too easily – with room to spare – gives him the extra incentive to pull them away from where they're sliding up his torso. He doesn't want to, but has to, and stops. Out of breath, he rests his forehead against Harry's for a second and feels his curls tickle against his temples. 

When he pulls away entirely, Harry is panting a little and looks confused. He also looks debauched, with lips red like strawberries and pupils large and it's not helping. 

“Harry,” Niall says, “Harry.”

“Niall,” Harry repeats back, a soft smile appearing on his face. 

“Harry, I think we need to talk.” The smile falls. 

It's almost incredible, how fast Harry's face goes from open and excited, to sad and closed-off and Niall aches everywhere; in his head, in his heart, in his groin.  
He tries to ignore all of it and pulls Harry towards the bed. He sits down first and invites Harry over with a pat to the comforter, where Harry gingerly sits down. 

If he hadn't had the vivid recollections of Harry as a six-year-old, he'd say Harry, curled up at the end of his bed with his arms around his knees, is the smallest he's ever seen him be. 

“I– Harry.” Niall doesn't know where to start, he doesn't know how to ask about whatever it is that's going on. Whether it's bullies, or friends, or family, or – god forbid – self harm, maybe he really is just that clumsy, who knows, but he wants to know. He just doesn't know how to ask Harry. 

Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth again and asks, “Harry, is anyone hurting you?” 

Harry flinches and Niall wants nothing more than to reach out and tug him close, so that's what he does, gently, and he pulls Harry into his lap. Harry tucks his head in Niall's neck and takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Please don't.”

“Sorry?”

“Please don't,” Harry pleads and there's wetness on Niall's shoulder now, “Please don't ask. Don't ruin this. Don't spoil this with – with, _that_.”

Niall's mouth opens, closes, opens. How do you even respond to something like that? How do you respond to the implication that you really are the only happy thing going on in someone's life right now, with the knowledge of it being fleeting haunting the back of your mind? 

“Harry.” 

“Niall, please,” Harry's tone is getting panicked, “ _Please_. One more, give me one more good day. Just today.”

 _Tomorrow is the fifth day_ , a voice in the back of Niall's head tells him, _The last day. The day he doesn't show up._

That happened like _one_ time. He reminds himself.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying, his lips seeking out Harry's in a desperate attempt to soothe him, “Okay, I won't. Don't cry, shh.”

Harry hiccups, but pulls back to give Niall the most brilliant smile. It's strange, to see tears roll over his face like that, but Niall smiles back helplessly. 

He is so completely in love with this boy. This beautiful, damaged boy in his lap. He didn't know it was possible to fall this hard, this quickly, but it's like nothing matters but this boy. Nothing but Harry, nothing but his happiness. 

“Let's do something,” Niall breathes against Harry's lips, moaning when the other boy licks in between his own and tangles his tongue with Harry's, “Let's go play with Tanya's dogs,” another kiss, hands pushing underneath his shirt, “They practised this morning – Jezus, _Harry_.”

Harry, who is sucking at a soft spot underneath his ear hums at him, still a little quick and twitchy as he pulls Niall's shirt off. 

“Harry you – umph! – love the dogs,” Niall tries, even though he's now enthousiastically tugging at Harry's tee, remembering Harry's panic from the day before well enough to be wary of his enthusiasm now. 

“Love you more,” Harry says, completely unabashedly and it surprises Niall so much he doesn't do anything to stop Harry from going for Niall's sweats. 

“Oh my god you're the worst,” he manages, as he lifts his hips and wiggles out of the sweatpants, “Tell me, though, Harry _please_.”  
Niall's hands map the planes of Harry's back and the soft skin at his sides, but he can't let himself go further unless he _knows_. “You're not – you haven't been, like, sexually?”

Harry pauses, his fingers just shy of the edge of Niall's pants and everything quiets down for a second, before Harry shakes his head, “I- I mean, it wasn't. It's not – I want this, Niall. I wasn't prepared yesterday, but I've thought about it and I want it. I want you, us. This.”

Niall nods and whispers, “Okay.” and then Harry's hand is cupped over his groin and his own hands are sliding down into Harry's trousers and _shit_.

Together, they tug loose Harry's jeans and Niall throws them to the floor, before he wraps his hands around Harry's hips again, just like yesterday, and topples them over so his body is over Harry's.  
In a way, it's a subconscious test, to see if he'll react like he did yesterday, in another, it's the overwhelming urge to protect this precious creature, that moans at the manhandling and wraps his skinny legs around Niall's waist and it's more than he can handle. 

With a loud groan, Niall presses his hips into Harry's, sliding their groins together, which feels heavenly, even through the fabric of both their pants. Harry ruts back, the hardness of him delicious against Niall's and he has to kiss him again, if only to distract himself. 

Harry's lips are moist and plush and his body is soft. His cock is hard and eventually Niall grows frustrated with the fabric, so after checking with Harry through some nods, he tugs the fabric off impatiently, along with his own. 

He presses himself against Harry once more, who accomodates him easily and moans so, so very prettily when Niall takes them both in hand and starts stroking them, his hand quickly lubricated by both their precome. 

“Oh!” Harry says and his arms tighten where they've wrapped themselves around Niall's neck, “Oh that's good. That's so good.”

Niall nods his agreement, his fist speeding up around both of them. 

“ _Shit_ ,” says Harry, a little dumbstruck, making Niall chuckle at him, “Oh, can I– can I try that?”

Niall looks up, into Harry's excited eyes and grins, “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

He pushes himself up and off harry, rolls over to the side and lets his legs fall open so Harry can climb over him and place himself inbetween them. 

Then Harry's long, thin fingers are wrapping around his length and it feels devine. He pulls Harry's face closer to his with one hand wrapped around his neck, as the other takes Harry's dick in his hand. 

It doesn't take long for both of them, riled up and writhing against each other with teenage enthusiasm. Harry bites at Niall's lower lip comes with a long, drawn-out moan and Niall pumps his hips up into his slack hand and chants his name when he spills. 

“Oh, oh my god,” he laughs and he wraps his arms around Harry and pulls him to his chest. He doesn't give a shit about the sticky come in between them and just hugs him to his chest tightly. 

They do eventually go out to play with the dogs – well, Harry plays with the dogs, Niall mostly watches Harry play with the dogs – and Tanya shows him how to make Bela do a backflip, before Niall's mum finds them and tells Niall he's got school-work to do if he wants to keep tumbling around like a loon with Liam on a daily basis. Niall grumbles at her, but gives in, as per usual and ropes Harry into helping him with his math. His mum shakes her head, but allows it and gives Harry a hand through his hair and a kiss on his cheek and asks him why he doesn't have school. 

Harry mumbles something about workweeks and holidays that Niall doesn't believe for a second, but he keeps quiet. He's too selfish about Harry to worry about the fact that he's probably skipping school. He's also too worried about Harry's health to worry about his education, too. 

He's pretty sure his mum doesn't buy it either, but she brings them early dinner anyway. 

When Harry leaves that night, they kiss each other goodbye by their bush and Harry leaves with a shy, yet elated smile. Niall's smile fades, though, when Harry has turned the corner and disappears.  
He's been able to keep smiling for Harry – and it's not like it's hard – but they have to talk tomorrow, they have to, but he doesn't want to. It's the circus' traditional last day in town and he doesn't want to spoil it, but he also wants to know what's going on. He wants to help, but he's not sure he can. He's pretty sure he can't, actually, because he can't stay. 

Wouldn't it be better to just let Harry have his happiness? Wouldn't it be better to leave each other happy and with just the heartbreak of their eventual separation? Wouldn't it be kinder? 

He contemplates it till late in the night, even talks to Liam about it, who grumbles back semi-helpfully from the other side of their trailer. 

He doesn't know what to _do_. 

* 

The decision is taken out of his hand when Harry doesn't show up the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun. 
> 
> So what did you think? Leave me some thoughts (and/or love/critisisms) in the comments or on [tumblr](http://hazazaz.tumblr.com/) and have a lovely day!


	5. When I remembered, it was too late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit guys, I'm so sorry for being dead for so long, but I have so much going on in my life right now that this story just sort of slipped into the depths of my counsciousness. As it is, I should actually be studying for my literature exam, but instead I whipped this out of the bag. 
> 
> Previously, Niall and Harry spent four days together, but Harry, as previously, did not show up on the fifth day and this time, Niall is going to find out why.

Niall is listlessly sitting by the bush he's come to think of as _theirs_ , when Zayn finds him. Of course it's Zayn, Zayn knows him (and the Harry saga) better than anyone else. 

“Again?” he asks, as he sits down next to Niall elegantly, the way only Zayn Malik can, careless with his legs folded beneath him, yet still elegant and sucking on his ever-present, ironic cigarette.

Niall doesn't say anything, he just stares at where the road curves, the place where people walk on and off the terrain, beyond which the spectators park their cars and cross the road to come see all of them perform. 

“He's a bit of a shit, isn't he?” says Louis, who has undoubtedly followed Zayn and drops down on Niall's other side. 

“I don't think it's his fault,” Niall says, still looking at the curve of the road, remembering the curve of Harry's back and stroking the palm of his hand over it again and again. 

He never thought he could fall in love this quickly, but he did and now he can feel his heart starting to break at the edges. Tiny cracks threatening to spread all through it until it falls apart. 

“Why not?” Zayn's voice is careful, as if he suspects the answer already. 

“The bruises, the shyness and –” Niall hesitates, but these are his best friends in the whole world, if he can't trust them with it, he can't trust anyone with it, “When we, you know, did stuff, he freaked out.”

“So, like, you think someone's hurtin' him?” Louis says. He looks concerned at Niall's confession and Niall belatedly realised that, out of all of them, Louis is most familiar with the concept.

“I don't know, maybe,” he replies, as he tugs at the grass the way Harry always does, “I don't know what to do. I'm so angry that he didn't show up, but what if it's because he's hurt. Like, really hurt?”

Louis' face is thoughtful and he takes a few seconds, before he says, “That could be.” 

Niall swallows and tries to keep his eyes dry, though he's pretty certain he fails. “What do I do, Lou?” he manages around the lump in his throat. 

He watches Louis, who – despite being the goofiest and most childish out of all of them – is the one they turn too with things like this. Not just because he's the oldest, but because he's their unspoken ringleader. 

Louis, in turn, watches Liam, who is walking towards them at a brisk pace, only wearing a white shirt, so his muscles ripple in plain sight. 

“Did you do it?” Louis asks, and Niall looks at both of them in confusion. 

“Yeah, I cleared it with Simon, it's cool.”

Louis nods, but still seems thoughtful, “Zayn?”

“Yeh?” 

“I need you to cover for me this afternoon, yeah?” Louis tells more than asks the fire breather, who nods obediently, and Niall is completely lost. 

“What?”

“The plan was,” Louis explains, as he gets to his feet and pats the grass and dirt off his ass, “To convince Simon to let you go to the city, even though we've already celebrated your birthday.”

When they went to the cinema, yeah, Niall remembers. They'd decided on celebrating early, on a non-show day, because his actual birthday is on a travel-day. He's starting to see what Louis' is getting at though and he's equal parts excited and scared to death. 

“But I'll come with you,” Louis continues and he pulls Niall up as well, “I think that's in both your and Harold's best interest.” 

There's images of them finding Harry dead and bloody on some kitchen floor running through Niall's mind. He flinches and nods frantically. Yes, they need to go find Harry, because he might be hurt, but on the other hand...

What if Harry doesn't want them to come find him? 

A small voice in the back of his head wonders if maybe Harry doesn't want to see _him_ anymore, but he shuts it up. Firmly. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, talking over the voice that's making him doubt himself, “Let's go.”

Zayn and Liam see them to the busstop and Niall's hand is firmly clasped into Louis' when they get on and he is eternally thankful to the lot of them. He waves at his childhood-friend and long-time partner, who are standing shoulder-to-shoulder and look so solid that, accompanied by the warmth of Louis next to him, he knows that even if everything goes to shit, they'll be there for him, he'll still have them. 

He just hopes he can have Harry, too. 

* 

When they arrive in Harry's city, Niall comes to the stupid, belated conclusion that he has no idea where Harry lives. 

“Some rescuing Romeo you are,” Louis grumbles, as they walk into a small post office, after about half an hour of searching and trying to come up with a solution. 

It was, of course, Louis' idea to ask for the yellow papers and Niall feels rather inadequate, especially when Louis asks him for Harry's last name and Niall. Doesn't. Know. 

“What do you mean you don't know, you'v been snogging a boy whose last name you don't even know. Niall, honestly, I taught you better.”

“Shit, Lou, don't joke about this. Can we just focus on finding Harry?”

“How do you suppose we do that, then? All we've got is his first name and the vague description of curly hair and green eyes.”

Niall's stomach seems to fall into a deep dark pit of despair – they're leaving tomorrow, they're not going to be back for two years! – when a voice behind the desk speaks up. 

“I'm sorry, d'ya mean Harry Styles?” 

Niall and Louis look at the man behind the desk with identical dumbfounded faces and the man – who has rather impressive dark curls of his own – smiles broadly at them. 

Louis narrows his eyes at him and says, “Boy, sixteen, about my height, has been walking around with a bruise for a face?” 

“Yeah, that's him! He lives a few houses down from me.” 

“Well then,” says Louis. 

*

The man's name turns out to be Nick, and aside from being a part-time employee at the small post-office, he's also an aspiring DJ/radio-host, the loose-lipped man, who insists they call him Grimmy, tells them, as he accompanies them on their way to where he lives. 

“It's kind of the dodgy end of town, mind you,” says Grimmy, as they get off the bus and walk down a street that, indeed, doesn't exactly look like it's the ideal place for a child to grow up, “But it's all right if you don't mind a bit of yelling and the really aggressive dog from number twenty-four.” 

Seeing as they've just passed number twenty-two, Niall makes sure to keep away from the fences, which aren't exactly what you'd call in great shape. 

“So this is my place,” Grimmy says, pointing towards a house which front lawn is littered with chairs and a campfire pit, “Share it with a few mates, it's well enough and that,” he points towards a house diagonally across from where they are, “is the Styles' residence.”

“Is that where the yelling comes from?” Niall asks, worrying at the edge of his snapback, where its digging into his forehead. 

“Nah,” says Grimmy, whose curiosity seems more spiked than ever, “Why?”

“Nothing,” says Louis, as he pushes Niall ahead of him, “Thanks for the help mate, we just need to find dear Harold so Romeo her can say his proper goodbyes.”

“Okay?” Grimmy asks more than agrees, and Niall can sense him watching them as they cross the street and ring the bell. 

Nobody answers. 

It's the story of Niall's life, really, waiting for Harry to come and open the door and he's so glad Louis came with him, because he never would've come up with, “Come on, lets try the backdoor.” when the nobody answers the door on the second ring, either. 

The backdoor is open and Louis gives Niall a triumphant look that has him rolling his eyes despite the anxiety that courses through his veins. 

“Louis, I'm pretty sure this is breaking and entering, mate,” he hisses at the clown. Louis only shusshes him and Niall is about to make a snarky comeback when both of them pause at the sight of the kitchen. 

It's dirty and there's stuff _everywhere_. Dirty pans and plates litter the counter and empty food packages are strewn all over. There are several signs of someone having made an attempt at cleaning, but it obviously hasn't helped much. The place looks like a disaster from hell's kitchen and then some. 

What strikes Niall most though, are the empty liquor bottles in the sink and on the table, agglomerated around the figure of a man that is quite obviously out cold. 

“Is that a needle?” Louis hisses in disgust, but Niall's already on his way towards the table, where he hesitantly approaches the large figure and immediately regognises him as the man that walked into him just moments before he finally met Harry again, earlier that week, which – yeah, that makes sense now. 

He's halfway towards reaching for the man's shoulder to shake him awake – to what, ask him where Harry is? He doesn't quite know himself – but he's stopped by the clattering of someone dropping something. 

He's about to become mad at Louis, when he notices that it wasn't his friend that dropped something. It was Harry. 

Harry, who is standing on the last step of some stairs Niall hadn't even noticed, half hidden by the door that obviously blocked Niall's sight of it before. At his feet lie several broken wine-bottles. 

“Ha–!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” 

Niall swallows the last syllable of Harry's name, watching with morbid fascination as outrage and something akin to angry shame crawl over Harry's face. From the corner of his eyes he can see Louis gaping at Harry. 

“Get out!” Harry says and Niall's almost impressed by his assertiveness, before the words register. 

“I'm sorry?” Louis answers, indignantly. 

“Get out!” cries Harry, again, as he steps over the broken bottles – on bare feet! – and grabs Niall by his shoulder. “You can't be here. You can't wake him up. You can't be here!”  
He starts pushing Niall out and, dazedly, he almost lets Harry shove him out the door, but he resists at the last moment. 

He turns around in Harry's arms, taking the other boy by surprise, and grabs Harry's face. 

“I was just worried,” he tells him, “You promised you'd come and you didn't. I thought something happened to you, I thought–” He glances towards the man, who still seems to be sleeping and whatever softness there was in Harry's face hardens immediately. 

“Well you shouldn't have!”

“Excuse him for worrying about you,” Louis replies angrily on Niall's behalf, as he can only stare at Harry, half in-love and completely helpless.

“Well, maybe I don't fucking want you to worry about me,” Harry says coldly, “I'm fine. Just– get out.” He scrambles at Niall's t-shirt, pulling and pushing at it to work Niall out the door. 

Niall goes, realizing he can't deny Harry. Not this, not anything, probably. Louis is harder and it takes Harry yelling at him to get the fuck out of his house, his voice breaking on his desparation. 

“I just wanted to see you,” Niall says, “Please just let me–”

“Well, maybe I don't want to see you!” 

The words cut into Niall deeply, in a way he didn't think words could hurt, but they do. They hurt just as much as the angry tears on Harry's face and the pained look in his bruised eyes. 

“Maybe I don't ever want to see you again. Stay away from me!” says Harry, half hissing and half crying, before he shuts the door on them and they hear it the lock click. 

That's how they find themselves sitting on the curb in front of Harry's house, dazed and distraught and disillusioned from their plan of finding and helping Harry. 

“Shit,” says Louis, adequately describing what Niall feels like, “Just – shit.”

“Yeah,” says Niall, and then, “Let's go.”

What?” Louis exclaims, “You're just gonna give up like that? Have you seen him? Did you see that _kitchen_. Something's not kosher there Niall and–”

“Can we just go home, Louis?” Niall says, his voice cracking in a macabre echo of Harry's voice, only minutes ago. 

Louis' eyes soften and Niall can't help but see the cracks in his eyes, so similar to the ones Harry has, though Louis' are scars instead of wounds. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Let's go home, Nialler.”

Liam is full of questions when they return, but neither of them answer. Zayn says nothing, but shows up in Niall and Liam's trailer later that evening and lets Niall cry into his shirt for at least half an hour, as Niall tells Liam the story, with Louis sitting on the floor, drawing silly, useless patterns in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed that and if you did, give me some love in the comments below or over on my [tumblr](http://hazazaz.tumblr.com/) <3


	6. but we were led on the path of fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall leaves, and grows, and comes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, monster chapter, whoops. I'm sorry that it took me a while, again, but it's almost half past one in the morning and I finished it!  
> The fact that it's half past one in the morning also means that there might be some mistakes, for which I'm sorry.

_Dear Harry,_ the first letter starts. _Dear Harry,_

_First of all, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for stalking you to your house and pretty much breaking and entering and, ~~shit,~~ I'm sorry for scaring you.  
In another way, I'm also really not sorry I did. I had to know if you were okay or not and I think that you're not as okay as I would want you to be, but knowing that is better than being left guessing about those bruises and your ribs and everything._

_I'm sorry for a lot of other things, too; not looking for you harder and sooner, for example.  
Most of all, though, I'm sorry for not talking to you when I had the chance. I'm sorry for not asking. I'm sorry I was too selfish to spoil those few days with that. _

_In the same way, I'm also not, because they were the best, weren't they? My days with you are some of the best days of my life. Louis would scoff at me if he heard me say that and Liam would remind me of the fact that it have only been eight – maybe nine if you squint. Zayn would understand, though, he and Perrie are the same. They don't see each other all that often, but they're more in love every time they do._

_And yeah, I think it's like that for us, too. I could love you, Harry. I don't know about you, but I think I could love you. A lot._

_And I'm not sorry for that._

_We're leaving today and it's horrible. I want to stay here and help you, because I think you' might need someone to help you, or at least someone who can love you a bit, if you'd want me to. I don't know what it was that I saw yesterday, but I don't think it was good and I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're in whatever situation you're in, because someone like you doesn't deserve anything but happiness. I'm sorry I can't give you that, but I'm grateful I got to make you happy for these past four days._

_I'm sorry I have to do this per letter, but you didn't seem keen on seeing me, so it'll have to be done like this._

_Please be careful. Please take care of yourself. If you won't do it for yourself then please do it for me, because I'm in love with you._

~~With love,~~  
 ~~Best wishes,~~  
 ~~kind regards,~~

_sincerely yours,_

_Niall_

He writes it with help from Liam – and Louis, because Liam can't spell for shit – and Zayn agrees to take the letter to Nick at the postal office. He and his family are going to see his mum's family for a bit and they'll pass through the city, unlike the main group, who will head for Ireland immediately and go the other way. He'll ask Nick to deliver the letter to Harry and it's a shit plan, but it's the only thing they could come up with.

It's not the last letter he writes, though it's the only one of them that makes it to Harry. Over the next couple of months, he writes a shoebox full of letters to Harry and most of the firsts are apologies, which gradually morph into questions.

What _did_ he see, that night at Harry's house. What is Harry's story? What really happened that bruised his face? Why did he hide it from Niall?

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes just how little he knows about Harry. The distance makes him see the slight ridiculousness of what happened. Eight days – nine if you stretch it. That's all the time they've spend together, even though it felt like so much more. He realises how right he was when he said he could love Harry. _Could_ , not does. Not in the way he loves his boys. The unfaltering affection he has for Zayn, the trust between Liam and himself, the flirty-sarcastic friendship he shares with Louis, which runs deep underneath all the jokes and laughing.

Love like that runs deep and that's not something that happens over eight - perhaps nine – days, but there's the potential. The potential of it and so, so much more. The gravitational pull he feels, the pull he's always felt towards Harry, after they met as kids, which he's never been able to explain.

It's Louis who helps him make sense of some of the other things.

“Remember when we snuck out the back-window when we were heading to Spain?” he asks Niall, when they're talking about what transpired between them and Harry, that night.

“Yeah,” Niall affirms, a question in his voice. He remembers quite well, how him and Louis snuck out the back of a moving vehicle – being their trailer, at the time – and sat on the roof, while the troupe traveled through the night towards Barcelona. They're wanted practically everywhere for their shows and they're a large troupe, so it happens sometimes, that they travel night and day. Simon always makes sure everybody gets enough rest, so it's okay and pretty fun as well. They sat on the roof of their trailer and talked almost all night long, before slipping back in to pretend to be the angels their moms never believed they were.

Niall remembers because it was the first time Louis ever told him about what happened to him and his family, in that other circus.

“I told you about my dad, yeah?” Lous asks, “About what he did to my mom and me?”

Niall nods, frowning at the memory. It haunts him to this day that someone as sunny as Louis was treated so terribly by his own _father_. Not that his mother had any choice in that matter.

“For how long had we known each other, at that point?”

“Er-” Niall hesitates, counting in his head, “I was sixteen when you joined us, you were seventeen and I think that's how old I was when we were on the roof, so, about a year, give or take?”

“So why do you think Harry would've told you after four days?”

“Eight,” Niall corrects him, but he understands. Still, the ghost feeling of Harry's hands on his chest- pushing him out the door stings. And he misses him, as he's always missed him.

“Hey,” Louis says, pulling Niall into a hug, fitting his curvy body against Niall's stocky one and squeezing, “I think you made him really happy in those four days.”

“You think so?” Niall says, his voice muffled in Louis' shoulder.

“Yeah, man, like– do you have any idea how radiant you are?”

Niall looks up at his friend in confusion and Louis smiles at him indulgently, before explaining, “You're like a tiny little sun, Nialler,” and he pinches Niall's cheek for added effect, “It's really hard not to be happy around you. I wasn't able to resist you and Harry wasn't either.”

Liam confirms this, when he mentions it, as they're practising for the summer shows.

“Yeah,” he says, as he balances Niall on his hands above him and they're making causal conversation as they try to transfer him to one, “When you smile at someone, you can't not smile back, it's like a cosmic rule, man.”

And maybe that's why Harry kept coming back. Maybe Niall made him happy, really happy, just for a little while and he's so, so grateful for that thought. It's a thought he can live with.

He worries, though, after Louis reminds him of the bad stuff that happened to him in his old circus. Envisions all the things that Harry might be going through and it kills him to know, but being unable to do anything about it.

Except he knows nothing. Not if the man is Harry's father, or his uncle or guardian. Not if the man abuses him, and if so, in what way. _Who knows?_ , maybe it wasn't at all what he thought it was.

He focusses on his performances, especially the first few months after leaving Harry's city are almost completely filled with training and training and then some training, anything to get Harry out of his head. It gets easier after that, though it's long after he's tricked his friends into a false sense of security by not talking about Harry anymore, it gets easier to just let it all simmer in the back of his head, to not think about it. _Really_ not think about it for a while.

 _Dear Harry,_ he begins a letter that he writes almost eight months after the first one, one of themany that never reaches the other boy, _Dear Harry,_

_I did a triple backflip from Liam's hands, today. We've been practising on the mats for weeks, but we finally got it. He's been keeping up with me, these past months, in some kind of solidary attempt to support me. He isn't like Louis, who tells me to stop burying my feelings in the performances, or like Zayn, who tries to distract me from practise in every way he sneakily can. He just trains with me and mostly keeps his mouth shut about everything. He's gotten so buff it's hard to feel sorry for it. You'd gawk if you saw him. You told me you were impressed with my muscles, but his are literally bulking now. He says he's not proud, but I know him too well for that._

_Louis has been practising with his sisters a lot, lately. Simon came up with a show that involves just him and his family and it's become such an awesome production, Haz. They're all so beautiful and graceful, and yet all sorts of hilarious. It's drama and comedy and it's one of the best shows I've ever seen him do. He's so talented, if only he would admit that to himself._

_Zayn misses Perrie, a lot, all the time and he's the only one I still regularly talk to about you. Because I miss you, a lot, all the time, as well. I miss your smile and your voice, your dimples and the way you always walk ahead. I miss the way you kissed me and, let's just say it, I miss touching you. Everywhere._

_I tried hooking up with one of the freelances, yesterday. He was nice and he had curls – though they were blonde – and it was nice, really nice. I don't think I'm going to do it again._

_I hope you're allright,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Niall_

He's gotten better at writing letters to Harry, as it's been a regular passtime for him over the months and it's almost a shame he can't read them. He still doesn't have Harry's adress, forgot to look when the post-office man took them to Harry's house – but it's not as though Harry can send anything back and he doesn't have the nerve to just keep sending him letters. Those hands on his chest, pushing him out, they left doubt in him. He doubts Harry wants his letters, so he doesn't send them, even though he could hypothetically look up where Harry lives.

His mum breaks her leg ten months after Harry, which is how he's come to refer to his life, sad as it is. Between taking care of her and taking over most of her roles in the performances, he doesn't have time to write for a long while.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages!” Simon's voice booms through the main tent, “Welcome to the greatest show on earth! The circus – is about to begin!”

He's wearing his ridiculous top-hat, which is part of the act and Niall smiles as Louis swings down on one of the trapezes and plucks it right of his head – the start to the clown-cortonist that starts off the show. Niall, Liam and Zayn always watch, before they go back to the main backstage room to put on their grime and costumes. They're in the same act, this season, in which Liam and Niall play the protective brothers of a girl Zayn is trying to woo with his firebreathing skills.

The spotlights are harsh and warm, but the heat, the light, and the feeling of the stage beneath his hands and feet make him feel alive – make him feel like he's precisely where he belongs, no question.

He takes a deep breath, before he throws Jade into the air, where she front-flips onto Liam's hands. Liam, meanwhile, is balancing on a large ball and rolls diagonally across the stagering with Jade on his hands. It's really quite impressive, or so the audience thinks, until Niall cartwheels after them and Liam jumps off the ball, just before the air above the red globe is hit with a blast from Zayn's fire – perfectly orchestrated of course – and allows Nial to climb him. Jade places her hands on his and he carefully lifts her, so he's standing on Liam's shoulders with Jade above him.

The audience cheers, before they collectively gasp when they pretend to fall down, as Zayn blasts fire at their backs. It's a harmless tumble, but it looks pretty badass and they get a loud applause when the three of them rise to their feet unharmed and Liam and Nial start throwing Jade back and forth a few times, before Zayn interferes again and 'blasts' Niall out of the way so Jade falls into his arms instead.

Niall grins, in spite of himself and the character he's playing, but angrily shakes his fist at his friend anyway, as Liam helps him up and throws him into the air one last time, before they run off the ring together.

“Great performance, guys!” Simon compliments them, “Try to be a bit quicker when you get off the ball, though, I don't want you to actually get burned and your timing can be better.”

“It looks cooler when we wait for a bit, though,” Niall argues for a second, but Liam is already nodding at Simon, so it's out of his hands, really.

They wat for the final stage-call and recive their last applause of the night, say goodbye to Louis, who is performing in the secondary tent for a bit longer, and then go to clean the make up off their faces.

“Can't wait till 'm twenty,” Niall says, as he and Liam get ready for bed. Liam accurately translates this into 'Can't wait till we're allowed to perform in the secondary tent' and nods.

The secondary tent is where the circus puts up performances that are more mature, usually more sensual, than the acts on the main stage. Niall used to think the secondary was just for people that didn't want to go home yet and wanted to pay more for more performances – and that is part of it - but the circus is, at the core of it, a business and Simon knows very well that sex sells, so he created the secondary tent as a way to make money of off people who like to see what else the snake-people can do.

The performances are not overtly sexual, his mother assured him, when he asked her about it a few years ago, but according to Louis, some of the performers do sleep with select, well-paying audience members and it's a little exciting. A dirty little secret within the circus, so to speak.

“I'd love to see what kind of performances they give there,” Liam says, as always mostly professionally interested, “But I'm more worried about next season. Simon doesn't have an act for us yet, we might get banked.”

Niall pulls a face, because he certainly hopes not. It's not like getting banked means they won't perform at all, but as part of the core of the circus – as opposed to the freelancers – they're usually part of, if not the centre of a main act and it would suck to be reduced to background performers.

They haven't been banked in a good few years now and he doesn't want to break that streak, though he knows it's not unavoidable. They're in that precarious stage of life where they're not quite children and not quite adults, so there are limited things Simon can have them do and since most of their acts are filmed for eventual DVD release, they can't very well repeat or copy acts. That's not what people pay for.

It's part of why Niall wishes he were old enough to be allowed to perform in the secondary tent. There would be more opportunities, more interesting acts to do. Plus, he thinks the sensuality of a secondary act would be exciting. He tells Liam as much, before he lets his head hit the pillow, and his partner laughs at him for a bit.

That night, he dreams he's performing in the secondary tent. There is only one person in the audience, there always is.

 _[single spotlight on child performer 1]_ his script starts, _[CP1 looks sad and lonely. Enter child performer 2, walking CP1 on his hands. CP2 smiles at CP1, who smiles back. Tumble play ensues, as they show off their individual skills and play together]_

The script continues in a fashion he blames on Romeo and Juliet, later, when he shows the script to Simon, who in turn shows it to most of the core performers. Louis and Zayn give him knowing looks, while Liam confirms he's okay with kissing Niall.

The script is edgy, Simon tells him, because Niall deliberately wrote it for two male performers; the adult versions of the children in the first part of the story, torn apart by their respective familes, before they find each other again later in life. It's a simple story, really, but it means the world to Niall and he can barely contain his excitement when Simon takes it on and even allows Niall and Liam to perform it.

It's strange, in a way, because Liam is essantially playing Harry and they know it, but they've known each other too long and too well to feel that way. It doesn't matter when they're performing, when they're in character and everything makes perfect sense, so it doesn't really matter outside of the performance, even if the story means everything to Niall, personally.

He writes the script almost exactly a year after he last saw Harry and it's a kind of closure. It's easier, but also not, because he's playing the story over and over again, every night. When the season ends, Louis inconspiciously incidentally organises a little get together with the boys, which becomes accidentally purposely Niall-centric and it's nice. He has the best friends in the world.

He thinks about Harry sporadically after that. He focusses on the online college courses he's taking on theatre and creative writing, writes another performance act specifically with Zayn and Perrie in mind and Simon catches on to it and invites Perrie and her family to stay with them for the entire season. He's never seen Zayn happier in his life and it stings a bit, but it's also amazing.

Louis and Liam both find themselves in relationships, that year, but Niall remains mostly single. He doesn't think that the two weeks when he slept with that aerial acrobat really count. Louis' exclusiveness also means there's no friendly getting off between mates and sometimes he gets frustrated. He has sex with two audience members that approach him after a secondary show – something he and Liam have been introduced to sixteen months After Harry – but refuses to be paid for it.

 _Dear Harry,_ the last letter he writes to Harry starts, _Dear Harry,_

_Me and the boys went out last night and even the whiteness of the paper is giving me a headache. We're in Las Vegas for a while and the bartenders are never quite so strict when it comes to performers, right now I'm not so sure if I like that as much as I did last night. Anyway, Simon knows some people here, so we're giving performances on the stages here in the city, instead of in the tent. It's so cool, Haz, we've got so much professional stuff to work with. Better lighting and the quality of the music is amazing. If I wasn't so loyal to my circus, I'd seriously consider staying here to perform._

_Perrie and her family are staying, though, which is sad, but Zayn says he's okay with it. It makes seeing her more special, he claims. I'm not so sure I believe him, but if it makes him feel better, I'm all for it._

_Mum says she's too old for it, anyway, which is a complete and utter lie, and you know I'd never leave her behind. Her leg still bothers her and she's performing less and less. She says she might settle down somewhere, at some point, but she's also been getting into management with Simon. Remember how good she was at math? Well, she is and Simon knows talent, whether it's in performing or mathmatics._

_I asked her, recently, if she regrets not settling down with dad, not leaving the circus for him to live in a city, with him and me, in Ireland. She says she doesn't, though I could see the sadness in her eyes. Performing is her life just as much as it's mine. We could never give that up, not for anything or anyone, she said, and she's right. I can't imagine doing anything else. This is where my heart is, most of it, at least. I'll always be convinced I left part of it with you and that's okay, you can keep it._  
 _I find I remember your face less and less every day. It makes me sad, but not a bad kind of sad. Not like the thought of you in pain still does. Like the memory of leaving you still does. I'm still sorry for that. I'll always be sorry. Just like I will always love you._  
 _I hope you're well._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Niall_

Niall finds that he's grown; phyisically, mentally, basically in every way a human being can grow, in the two years that he's been away from Harry's city. He finds that he isn't the boy he was two years ago. Not just because of the braces Simon suggested at one point, or the fact that he's grown, both in height and in widh, shoulder-wise. He's a lot calmer, more okay with himself, steadier.

He watches, in the dusk of the day they arrive at the familiar field, his snapback backwards on his head, as they set up the tents. He watches his family buzz around, familiar and comforting. Tanya is feeding her dogs and they're barking excitedly, while two of Louis' sisters make an attemt at helping, but mostly stare lovingly at the new puppies. Zayn's father is filling his bottles of alcohol, a concentrated expression on his face as he measures the amount and carefully pours the liquid in the glass bottles.

Liam is helping with the tent, the muscles of his shoulders bulging as he pulls the rope in his hands. Zayn is sitting on the stairs to his trailer, a cigarette in his mouth.

“Hey, darling, are you coming in for dinner?” his mum calls and Niall gives her a smile and nods. He doesn't glance at the bus at the edge of the field, not once.

The next day, there's a tall, lanky boy with a messy head of hair and bright green eyes sitting underneath it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, please leave me some love if you liked it, in the comments or on [tumblr](http://hazazaz.tumblr.com/) and I'll hopefully see you next time!


	7. And now we see what we've become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides* 
> 
> I'm so fucking sorry this took so incredibly long, guys! I don't even have an excuse, I just lost my muse. 
> 
> I went to Dublin last week tho, so I got my Irish heart beating again, so here's approximately 4200 words of apology. It's an explanation chapter and we're nearing the end quickly now.   
> I just want to note that this is always what I've had in mind for this story and it might be a little different from what you might expect, but I still hope you'll like it. Enjoy!
> 
> *points at the boys* *points at self* *shakes head*

The first thing Niall does when he sees Harry is curse, very loudly and very- well, _Irishly_. The second thing he does is hug Harry. 

He doesn't throw himself in Harry's arms – newly tattoed and defined and frankly it's a bit of a temptation not to – and he doesn't cry. He doesn't kiss him. He just hugs him. 

“Hi,” Harry says, smiling down at Niall. His voice has gotten even deeper than it'd been when he was sixteen and Niall smiles, looking up at him because he looks _good_. He looks healthy. He looks happy. Happy to see Niall, perhaps, but there's a general sort of ease to the way he holds himself that's telling. It seems obvious now that it isn't there, but Harry'd always been so tense, even when he was around Niall. After what Niall saw in the house, it isn't hard to figure out why. 

“Hi,” he breathes back and he chuckles when he spots a stray tear that rolls over Harry's right cheek. He's crying, but it's good crying. Healthy crying - _god I've missed you it's so good to see you again_ crying. Niall swallows against the lump in his own throat and lets his hand slide down Harry's arm, to take his hand. He slots his own fingers, broad and strong, between Harry's; they've become terribly long, but they're still as slender as he remembers. Niall's hand feels tiny, but he uses it to tug him along, anyway. This isn't a conversation they should have beneath a bush, all out in the open, even if it's _their_ bush. 

Harry obediently follows him to his trailer – Niall doesn't think his mum'll be too angry that he's skipping dinner in hers - and they pass the Malik family on the way. Zayn spots him, then spots Harry and his eyes widen. There's a flutter of emotions that run over the firebreather's face – surprise, glee, wariness and a protectiveness that has Niall's smile widen, but Zayn's final expression is accepting, encouraging and he really couldn't have asked for better friends, really. 

There's a moment of awkwardness, as they step inside the trailer Niall still shares with Liam and both remember what transpired between them here, last time. 

“Tea?” Naill offers, even though he makes a shit brew, according to Louis, and Harry nods. It's calming, to put the kettle on and rummage around in their tiny cubboards above their tiny kitchen. Harry's sat down on the bed he obviously remembers to be Niall's – he's always had a good memory for things like that. Niall sits down next to him after he hands him his mug, his own steaming in his hand. 

“I got your letter,” Harry says, after he's wrapped his fingers around the mug,“I wrote a response.” He shifts to pull out two envelopes from his backpocket and he hands them Niall, who accepts it wordlessly. One of them's his, the first letter he wrote to Harry and the only one he read, the other one's new. To Niall, anyway, because it's actually an old, dirty piece of paper that's dented in a way that suggests the envelopes have been in Harry's back pocket for a while. 

“Basically what it says is that I'm sorry, too,” Harry explains, when Niall makes no move to open the letter. There are more tears brimming at the edges of his eyes now, but he's looking at Niall. Looking him straight in the eye, so unlike the way he used to sort of look at him sideways and Niall forgives him instantly.   
Harry continues anyway. 

“I'm sorry that I never showed up on the fifth day,” he says, regret heavy in his voice, “I'm sorry for being so mean to you – for yelling at you when you were just worried. When you cared enough to come and find me–”

“I'm sorry for putting you in that position,” Niall interrupts him. He's come to understand, after several deep conversations with Louis, Harry's defensive response. Harry shakes his head. 

“You deserved better,” he says. 

“So did you,” Niall responds. It gets a bitter laugh out of Harry. 

“I realise that now,” Harry says. He gestures to the letter, “Your letter helped.” There's a moment of silence before Harry takes a deep breath. “About eight months after you left I turned my father in for abuse.” 

Niall's stunned for a second and then he lets out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. He's not sure how long he's been holding it. He might have been holding it for two years. He puts down his mug and smiles at Harry. “That's really brave of ya.” 

Harry smiles in return, though it's a kind of sad smile. “It wasn't really abuse-abuse,” Harry says, a little defensively, “Most of the stuff that happened was accidental.” Niall wants to interrupt him and protest, but he gets a feeling that he needs to hear Harry out. For his sake. 

“He mostly abused himself. With the alcohol, I mean,” Harry continues. His knuckles are a bit white where he's gripping his mug tightly, “I'm pretty sure I get the clumsiness from him and that just triples when he's drunk – was drunk. First time I met you, do you remember? My wrist was bruised.”

Niall remembers. He'd tried to pull Harry up from the ground at one point and Harry'd been careful with his left arm. 

“I'd tried to help him up the stairs,” Harry huffs, a bit of a laugh coming out, “I was six so you imagine how that went.” He pulled a hand through his hair, which, now that Niall looked a bit closer, had lost a bit of its curlyness, and it was a lot longer. “It went bad,” Harry added lamely. 

Niall chuckled, “I can imagine. That happen a lot, then?” Harry'd always been hurt in someway, as far as Niall remembered. 

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, “They were mostly accidents, I swear. That time with you, when my face happened,” he gestures to his head absently, “That was one of the first times he actually hurt me on purpose, 'cause I was skipping school again to come to you – to the circus and stuff.”

“Again?” is what Niall asks. 

Harry rubs at his arm awkwardly, “Yeah, I used to do that a lot. Usually I just didn't want to face my teachers, because I hadn't done my homework. Didn't have a lot of time for it, back then. Dad seemed more important than math. Didn't realise that he shouldn't have been more important than me, you know, because he's my dad. He was supposed to take care of me.”  
The last bit is almost a whisper, as though he's not entirely sure if that's true, still. 

“Of course he's supposed to do that,” Niall says, as he scoots closer and wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder and pulls him into his body, “He never shoulda hurt you, Haz, you shouln't have been forced to skp school. Not for him – and not for me.”

“He didn't hurt – not usually, or like – regularly or something,” Harry mumbles into Niall's neck, as he returns the hug. It isn't desperate, the hug, it's just nice and comforting and they let each other go with a soft smile, so Harry can continue his story. “But child services still recognise addiction in close proximity to a child as abuse and they catagorised our case as neglectful as well, when Nick took me to them, after I realised how fucked up everything was and that they might know how to help him better than I did. That they might know how to help me, too.”

He knows it's a bit of a weird way to feel about all of this, but Niall's kinda proud of this boy sitting on his bed. Beyond the sadness and the anger and the helplessness he still feels, there's also the warmth of pride, swirling in his stomach as he looks at Harry. At his longer hair and clothes that finally seem to fit, at the tattoos that Niall kinda wants to know the stories behind and at the green eyes that have never looked brighter. Harry took care of himself, just like Niall asked him to. 

The only thing he doesn't quite understand is, “Nick?”

“The man who brought me your letter?” Harry says, and Niall recalls the tall, chatty postman that lived across from Harry, “He didn't read it, don't worry, but he kinda guessed something was off, you know? He stuck around and helped me a lot. Like, a lot – a lot. He was my legal guardian for a while and I still live with him, now.” 

Niall's silent for a moment. He hadn't expected postman Nick to stick around or help, but he's grateful that he did, even if he's a bit jealous of Harry's obvious affection for him, as well as the fact that Nick did get to help Harry. He says as much to Harry and the other boy smiles. 

“But you did help,” he says, “You were the first person to ever by my friend, among other things.” Niall can't help himself and reaches for Harry's hand. Harry wraps his hand around Niall's immediately and smiles. “You showed me what a real family should look like, even if yours is a little unconventional,” he says, “And when you showed up, how I reacted and how you and Louis reacted, it shocked me out of the bubble I'd wrapped myself in. I read your letter almost a hundred times when I got it and that's kinda when I realised things had to change if I wanted a chance at your kind of happiness.”

Niall squeezes his hand and Harry keeps talking. “I didn't know how to, at first, but standing up to my dad for a change helped. It kinda shocked him to when I confronted him with what he was doing. I was terrified, but I think he was even more scared. Scared of me, can you imagine?” He chuckles, apparently aware of how completely unthreatening he is. “It was Nick's idea to go to child services and dad kind of agreed and the child services lady, Lou, and Nick and me, we talked him into going to rehab. He even signed the guardian papers willingly, though he made the Lou promise she'd keep an eye on me. I've been with Nick ever since.”

“And how's that going? How are you doing?” Niall asks, curious to learn how Harry turned into the person he is now. 

“I'm good,” he replies with a smile, a genuine, sunny smile, “Nick made me go back to school, even though he says he loathed the place, but I never liked it either so I'm doing college courses from home now. I got into music a lot and that helped. Lots of self reflection and all that. Was into some really angry shit for a while and I screamed at people a lot, but I also made friends?” He sounds like he still can't really believe that he made friends, even though Niall is 100% convinced Harry is actually the loveliest person ever. “I mean, a lot of them were Nick's friends, but they stuck around and they're great. I mean, not as great as you, but they're okay. And I'm okay. That's important too.”

There's a bashful smile on Harry's face and it's that smile, framed with a halo of dark brown curls, that makes Niall realise that he's still completely and utterly gone for this boy. “Of course that's important,” says Niall, “That's the most important thing in the world, to me. That's why I came to find you then.” He pauses and has half a second of a debate with himself, before he continues, “That's why I wrote you fifty-something letters in the past two years, even though I couldn't send them, 'cause I didn't have your address.”

“I want to read them,” Harry says genuinely, eyes bright and large hand in Niall's and Niall says, “Later,” and kisses him. 

It's a nice kiss. It's soft and warm and completely chaste, but utterly wonderful. Harry responds with a sigh, as if he hadn't been sure this would happen and Niall almost wants to laugh at him, because _of course_ this would happen, but that would meen taking his lips off of Harry's plump ones that taste fucking delicious and that just won't do. 

Harry's hand comes to cup Niall's jaw, while his own arm slips around Harry's waist. He's pleased when he doesn't find the feeling of ribs, but instead the feeling of muscle, and a slight swell of babyfat. He looses himself in the feeling of Harry against him for a second, as their mouths slide together and their bodies align just as perfectly as they did two years ago. It doesn't matter that it's a tiny bit clumsy, they both know they'll get better at it. 

They separate with a soft smack and there's a moment of dazed gazing at each other before Niall stands up. “Come on,” he says, “I bet the whole family's waiting to see you.” 

They are, under the excuse of wanting a communal dinner, practically the entirety of the circus has casually gathered in the main area of the camp they've set up, around the usual (completely safe, managed by Mister Malik) campfire, eating and chatting until Niall shows up with his hand linked with Harry's.

If there was any tension in the air before they arrived, it evaporates immediately when they spot their interlaced fingers and then Louis is shouting at Niall to “Come sit at the table, yeah?”   
He's at the table nearest to the campfire, sitting next to Zayn, but Liam's usual spot across from Zayn is vacant. Instead, Niall's partner is sitting at the head of the table, next to the firebreather. His usual spot and the spot next to it, which belongs to Niall, have been left open. 

Niall could cry, he really could, he loves these lads. 

Harry seems to notice and he sits down at Liam's left hand with a smile towards Liam, who nods at him. Without them having to tell Niall, he knows Louis probably worried about where to put Harry and Liam came up with the solution. They're kind of the mum and dad of their little group like that. Zayn's texting Perrie like the rebellious teenager he is. Niall feels like he's introducing Harry to his future in-laws and his own mum isn't even here. 

She's a few tables over and smiling like a lunatic, while some of the other older acrobats give Niall not-so-subtle thumb ups. 

“They're embarrassing,” he says to Harry.

“They're lovely,” Harry shushes him, before starting an animated conversation with Louis about bananas. 

*

Dinner slowly transitions into a lazy evening around the campfire, as it's a no-show night and Niall's trying to convince Zayn to toast Liam's marshmallows with flamethrowing. Where Payno got marshmallows, he has no idea, and Zayn's refusing anyway. Harry and Louis are still talking and Niall's pretty sure they're comparing their experiences with child services and – in a way – their experiences with abuse. He's glad; Louis is far better equipped to talk to Harry about these things than he is. For all that Louis is loud and playful, he's also got a very caring streak and Niall smiles at them through the flames of the fire, where they're sitting and whispering to each other. 

Zayn has been a steady presence at his side all evening, completely accepting of Harry, but also protective of Niall to a degree that's almost ridiculous. Zayn's always kinda seen Niall as his little brother, though, so it's not all that surprising. It's comforting to have him there, anyway, silently smoking a cigarette and refusing to spit fire for Niall. 

He's grateful when Liam, ever the peace-maker, announces that he wants to watch a movie and asks both Louis and Zayn what they want to watch, but not Niall and Harry. He also decides that they're going to watch it in their trailer and accompanies the now squabbling duo to their shared home with a smile towards Niall. He's not very subtle, Payno is, but it does the job. 

Harry is now the one that's staring at him from across the fire, with something that Niall can only describe as 'heart eyes' and he laughs. “Come on,” he motions with a hand, and Harry scrambles up wo take it, “Let's go.” 

They wave to Niall's mum and some of the other artists. Tanya wears a smirk that says she knows exactly what they're up to and Niall sighs at her. She just laughs at him, so he tugs Harry away from the group, past Simon, who raises an amused eyebrow at him and god, sometimes his family's the worst. 

Harry's still smiling though, when they enter the trailer, so Niall kisses it off his face determinedly. This time, the kiss doesn't stay chaste for long, as Harry licks into his mouth and moans unabashedly. Niall very nearly curses as he tugs at Harry's clothing. He almost prefers the just-a-t-shirt Harry from two years ago, what is he even wearing? The plaid shirt comes off eventually, though, once Niall's figured out the very few buttons it's buttoned with and then he tugs Harry's undershirt over his head, making even more of a mess of the curls. He loves it. 

He attaches his mouth to Harry's throat next, feeling the vibrations of his groan and smiling against his adam's apple. He sucks a mark into the soft skin below Harry's jaw and fights with Harry's belt. Harry, meanwhile, is tugging Niall's own shirt out of the back of his pants. 

“Want you,” he pants, sounding even hoarser than he already does. 

“'been waiting two years for this,” Niall replies, “For you.” He might have thought he was over Harry, that he'd moved on, but god, he was wrong. Now that he sees Harry again, he's in love again. Still in love. He can't quite bring himself to say it, though, not when he knows he'll have to say goodbye to him again in five days. 

He shoves the thought aside and shoves Harry towards his bed. He stumbles, but falls safely onto Niall's duvet and Niall's on him within the seconds it takes him to shed his shoes and tug off his trousers. Harry's are more of a challenge – his shoes come off just fine, but it's a struggle to peel his skinny jeans off his legs. Harry giggles at Niall's attempts and Niall straight up laughs at him when he can't quite manage it himself, but eventually they're down to just their pants and their tongues in each other's mouths. 

Niall moans when Harry nibbles at his lips and sucks on his tongue and sticks his hands down the back of Niall's pants. “Shit, Haz.” Harry smiles into the kiss, so very pleased with himself that Niall can't help but stick his own hand down Harry's pants, except he goes for the front and Harry pulls away from the kiss to look complete surprised. His expression quickly morphes into one of pleasure.

“Want you to fuck me,” he says, breathless, sounding wrecked already. Niall has to bite at his own lip hard in order not to let out an embarrassing whimper of “Yes, yes, Harry, yes,” but he kind of says it anyway. 

He tries to untangle himself from Harry, but Harry just wraps his obscenely long legs around Niall and refuses to let go, so eventually they just kind of fall over and roll around until Niall can reach for a drawer in between his and Liam's bed to produce the lube that's stacked there – there are very few boundaries between Niall and his acrobatic partner, there are – and he produces a condom from somewhere underneath his matress. Harry giggles at him again and Niall can't help but smile as well. 

It's so different from last time, where it was all sorts of intense and careful and new. They're more experenced now, different. Harry especially has grown so much, both physically and in the way he acts. His body's bigger and stronger, emetting a glow that Niall can only describe as _healthy_ and he's laughing and so, so responsive. He throws his head back when Niall kisses down his torso, laving attention at all of his nipples and tattoos. He practically keens when Niall tugs down his underwear and licks a stripe up his dick, before he takes it into his mouth. He has to do a bit of manouvering to slide the fabric off Harry's legs while he does that, but he manages and it isn't before long until he has to put a hand on the other boy's hip to keep him from trashing too much when he rubs a lube-slick finger between his cheeks. 

“Fuck, Niall,” Harry moans impatiently, “Please, just.” Niall pushes his first finger in, as he suckles a little on the tip of the dick in his mouth and enjoyes the unraveling of Harry underneath him. Loves taking care of him like this. Doing this for him. _With_ him. 

Harry feels warm inside, inviting and Niall's almost impatient, but forces himself to go slow until Harry digs a heel into his shoulder and glares down at him, urging him on for more. (Though he does end his order with a moan of 'please'.)

So Niall pushes in another finger, and he's rutting against the duvet Harry's currently also clutching in his fists and it's already so, so good. He scissors his fingers, pushing them in and out of Harry and stretching him thoroughly. He doesn't quite get Harry to curse at him, but he comes close when he pushes in the third. At that point he's crawled up Harry's body again andthe long, pale legs are wrapped around him again. He's stroking a strong thigh with he hand that isn't partially inside of the other boy while his tongue is very definitely completely inside the other lad, curling around Harry's with reverence and the desire to taste all of him.

“Are you ready?” he asks, after pulling away reluctantly and Harry nods. Nods again when Niall stares at him questioningly, trying to ensure that Harry really, really wants this. He really, really does, as he's the one that eventually rolls the condom onto Niall and he tugs at his own cock impatiently. 

Niall slaps his hands away, thinking that, one of these days, he needs that gorgeous thing inside of him, but then they're wrapped around each other again and all Niall can think about is the fact that he's not currently inside of Harry while he could be and shit, that needs to be rectified immediately. 

Harry lets out a long, pleased “Oh,” when Niall enters him and throws his head back onto Niall's pillow. He looks gorgeous like that, lost in feeling and so very close to his release. 

Niall pulls back and pushes back in, reveling in the warm, wet feeling of Harry around him. It's beyond good, but he doesn't really know what to call it. The closest explanation he has is, 'It's Harry', which – perhaps not the right moment to contemplate that. 

He keeps thrusting in and he must sporadically hit Harry's prostrate, because Harry moans into his mouth when he kisses him and asks for 'more' and 'harder' and 'faster' and 'Niall'. Asks for Niall, moans for Niall, wraps his arms and legs around Niall and kisses Niall and makes Niall feel pleasure that courses through his veins and makes his toes curl and his hips stutter inside of Harry. 

He slams in, jostling Harry higher up the bed, but he doesn't seem to mind, he just searches out Niall's mouth and kisses him, sloppily and deliciously, before they both loose focus and just pant in each other's mouth as Niall keeps thrusting into Harry at an almost unforgiving pace. The slap of their skin is obscene, though not as obscene as the face Harry pulls when he comes at with a few strokes of Niall's hand around his cock. He moans Niall's name and clings to him even tighter as he comes between them, rides out the waves of his orgasm as Niall keeps pounding into him. Eventually, Niall buries himself a final time inside of his boy and muffles his shout into Harry's neck as he shudders and comes with his arms wrapped around Harry. 

Their chests bump into one another as they pant out of sinc, but they're smiling completely identical sated smiles, just before Niall carefully pulls out and pulls off the condom. He gets rid of it quickly and grabs a washcloth from above them, where they sometimes hang their was when they're traveling, or the weather's shit, and he gets both of them cleaned up before he allows himself to collapse next to Harry, who is humming happily to himself, before turning over and wrapping himself around Niall again like some overgrown koala. 

Niall doesn't mind and kisses Harry's curls. Harry's fingers snake across his chest and he catches them with a hand, making his boy smile even broader and snuggle into him contently. They fall asleep like that, Harry's head just above Niall's shoulder, his arm around Harry's back and their hands intertwined on Niall's stomach. 

They sleep, unaware that a few trailers over, a firebreather, a clown and an acrobat are in a phone conversation with a radio host and their ring master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a comment letting me know what you thought and felt (or if you want to shout at me for being such a lazy bum) or head over to tumblr to say hello!


	8. Together again, where we belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'm going to go back to writing hardcore porn instead of this fluffy bullshit. It's awful and beautiful and I can't with how adorable they are. I couldn't have them just fuck though, not in this story, so making love it was!

Niall wakes up as the little spoon – which, okay. He can deal with that. He wiggles around for a second, because it's only barely starting to light outside and he's totally going to nap and doze in Harry's arms for a little bit longer. They've kicked off the blanket somewhere during the night – or maybe they never pulled it over themselves in the first place, Niall can't remember, but it's warm enough to be comfortable and he snuggles back against the tall body behind him contentedly. Harry murmurs something in his hair and pulls Niall in tighter, one of his large hands on Niall's naked stomach and _oh._ There's a telltale hardness pressing insistently against his bum and yeah, Niall can so, totally deal with this. He's suddenly completely awake

He carefully turns and wiggles for a bit to get Harry to splay out on his back (in which he only succeeds through basically laying _on_ him) and he's glad to learn that Harry is apparently a very heavy sleaper. Not like Louis, who has never been able to sleep really well, and woke Zayn and Niall up screaming some nights, back when they still shared with the three of them. Or Perrie, who apparently always wakes up when Zayn tries to sneak out for an early cigarette. 

Harry, thankfully, just smacks his lips and settles against Niall's pillows again. The Irish boy can't help but smile at the sight of him, before smirking, as he carefully slides down Harry's body. Not for the first time he curses the heavens for his tiny bed and praises them for having given him the ability to bend his body like it's made of elastic. It takes a bit of careful maneuvering, but it's all worth it for the feel of Harry's skin sliding against his, warm from sleep and a little slick with sweat, still. It's worth it for the feeling of his hands on Harry's firm thighs and the jut of his hip against Niall's cheek. 

Harry's dick is definitely standing at attention, even if Harry's out cold, and Niall breathes against it to gauge the boy's reaction. He sighs, pleased, and wiggles his bum and it almost makes Niall laugh, but he manages not to giggle and instead licks gently at the base of Harry's cock.   
As he goes up, lips and tongue and breath, Harry's sighs and movements become more insistent, but it isn't until Niall wraps his lips around the tip of him that Harry wakes up with a start and a moan that turns into somewhat of a groan halfway through. 

“Niall,” he breathes, as his hands slide over Niall's cheeks. In response, Niall pushes down and lets his lips slide down Harry's length until he's pretty sure he can't go further unless he wants to gag on it – which is A Thought, but for later – and then he sucks in his cheeks. 

“Ung. Fuck,” Harry drawls, his voice gravely and hazy and somehow _warm_ with sleep. Niall can't help but smile. He's brought back in the game when his teeth accidentally graze against Harry and he moans obscenely. Fuck he's going to enjoy this, Harry's so _responsive._

He slobbers up and down on the dick in his mouth, getting it as wet as possible. What he can't quite cover with his mouth he envelops in his fist gently, teasingly. Harry's loosing it above him. 

“Fuck, Niall, oh my god,” he curses. Niall's almost proud of him. “Fuck, I wanna fuck you.”

Now there's A Thought. Niall kinda wants him to come in his mouth, though, so that's a bit of a problem. Niall's a greedy boy, though, and he loves Harry very much, so what he does in the end is push a spit-slick finger against Harry's hole. It slips in thanks to leftover lube and Harry's arousal and then he presses against Harry's prostate insistently, while he sucks and bobs on Harry's cock. Harry's back bows beautifully and he cries out in pleasure. His thighs close around Niall's face and he has to push at Harry's hips to allow himself some space to pull back and catch Harry's release in his mouth. 

He looks up at Harry and very deliberately swallows. Harry's dick twitches beneath him and he smirks lewdly. Harry's head falls back with a groan, his body lax and sprawled out on the bed like an oversized ragdoll. It tenses, when Niall slowly crawls back up and Harry seems to scramble for his mind for a second before his hand wraps around Niall's neck and pulls him in for a desperate kiss. 

“Shit, what you do to me,” he mumbles, nipping at Niall's lips hungrily. 

“Still wanna fuck me?” Niall asks in return, giggling when Harry's arms wrap around him again in an echo of how they woke up this morning and he's pulled flush against his boy's tattoo'ed chest. He allows Harry to snog him for a couple of minutes – thoroughly enjoys Harry snogging him for a couple of minutes – and then twists one of Harry's nipples. He gasps and protests in mock offense, but Niall's already reached over for the lube. The grumbling stops immediately. 

Niall catches the green eyes that have haunted him for all his life and he doesn't let them go, as he lubes up his fingers and sticks the first one up his bum. He holds Harry's gaze as he works it in and out of himself, dedicates all of his moans to him, but he doesn't close his eyes. He lets Harry pull him closer, he settles himself on Harry's lap with his knees on either side of Harry's hips, but he doesn't for a second break their eyecontact. Blue on Green, Niall on Harry. Harry who gazes up at Niall in awe and runs his hands up and down his flanks. 

Their gaze only breaks when Harry's hands briefly disappear and then there's a long, spindly, slick finger next to Niall's own and he has to close his eyes and moan in pleasure when it presses into him alongside his own. It's overwhelming and, apparently, gets Harry hot and bothered, because there's another something long and slick pressing against Niall's bum again. 

Niall shoves in a third finger, impatient, and stretches himself almost painfully, until Harry shushes him and presses a kiss to his mouth to slow him down. Niall lets himself focus on that, as his mind slips into the sea of pleasure that seems to course its waters through his veins. At some point, another long finger of Harry's presses inside him and he has to press his head into his neck and suck viciously to relieve some of the tension inside of him. He protests loudly, though, when all of the pressure inside of him is suddenly gone. Protests even louder when the world suddenly doesn't really make sense anymore, as he's grabbed by his hips and turned around. 

He stops mid-word at the sight of Harry hovering above him, curls a mess around his face and lips bitten red. His face is flushed but determined and his hands... his hands slide up Niall's thighs, his knees, his calves, as Harry pushes them higher and closer to his body, practically folding him in half as he throws them over his shoulders, broad and sturdy, and leans down even further for a kiss. Niall can't even moan, he's so turned on – his cock trapped between his and Harry's abs and he just breathes and lets Harry hold him. Sighs when he finally, finally slides in with one glorious push of his hips. 

“Fuck, Harry.” 

“'s what I'm doing, innit?” Harry replies, equally breathless. Niall doesn't even have the brain capacity to laugh, let alone respond. Just groans when Harry pulls back and then pushes back in. Harder and harder each time as he holds Niall down. He bends for him so easily, every muscle hot and liquid – fits himself around his boy in every way he can, Niall does. His legs over Harry's shoulders, resting on his back, he pushes his heels in and his ass back. It isn't before long, after many sporadic brushes against his prostate, that he comes, between them and his toes curl against Harry's back. 

It's a good thing he doesn't sing for a living, he thinks, as Harry keeps pumping in and out of his deliciously oversensitive body. He's going to be hoarse for a few days, he's sure. 

“Come on,” he engourages his boy, when he gets some of his brain function back, “Come for me.”   
That's all it takes for Harry to bury his teeth in Niall's shoulder and come with a mumbled shout of Niall's name. He's going to be hoarse for a bit as well, Niall thinks, as he strokes his lover's tensed body and feels him ride out his orgasm inside of him. He's never felt safer, lying beneath Harry like this, blissed out and loved and, to be quite honest, well fucked. 

He hopes Harry, on top of him, heaving and smiling against his skin, feels the same. 

“I love you,” Harry whispers, and Niall thinks that, yes, he just might. 

“Don't go,” he says, in the most honest way he knows how to say those words back, “Don't ever leave me again. Please, Hazza.”

“I won't,” Harry mumbles, tears in his voice, “I'll never.” 

*

He does. Leave that is, but only for a little bit to get some stuff. Liam's sleeping over in Zayn and Louis' trailer. Harry comes back, just like he always does and hugs Niall for at least a minute when he returns. Niall doesn't even notice the man behind him until well after two. 

“Good mornin'!” the bloke says sunnily, and Niall frowns at him and his curly quiff for a second before he recognises him as the postman. 

“The postman!” he therefore says, intelligently. Harry laughs at him.

“Nick Grimshaw, actually,” the man corrects him, with a broad smile on his face that Louis immediately starts immitating. Niall knows he can't really help himself, but Nick frowns at Louis, who sticks his tongue out at him and grabs Zayn by the hand to twirl him around and away from their little gathering of people. Liam keeps his seat on one of the trailer steps behind Niall silently. 

“I'm not a postman anymore, either,” Nick says, after Niall gives him a peace-offering smile. 

“Radio host, he is now!” Harry says proudly, smiling at Nick as he trows an arm around his shoulders. Nick's taller than he is, though, and the older guy laughs at him, as he grips him around the waist.  
“And Harold's legal guardian,” he finishes, “Nice to finally, properly meet you, Niall.”

Niall shakes his hand, grateful that he and Louis decided to step into that specific tourist office, two years ago. 

“How about a tour?” Harry proposes, and with that they're off over the circus grounds. 

Liam does most of the tourguiding. 

*

Harry and Nick stay for the show that night, watch as Louis does a juggling act with his sisters, who have become quite the little performers, and Zayn stumbles into the ring to set most of their props on fire. They laugh at Louis, who pretends to be outraged and starts trowing his things at Zayn, who catches them easily, until his sisters convince him to play _with_ Zayn, instead of leaving him out. Louis' been teaching Zayn how to juggle since december and he's gotten pretty good so it's a fun act. 

Niall and Liam are in the final act of the show, with Mister Malik, who has Liam throwing Niall through fiery hoops and other such dangers as their bored king. He is eventually overthrown by his wife, as played – for one of her last times – by Niall's mum and her female colleagues. Let it never be said that Simon's circus isn't progressive. Niall's a little sad that Harry didn't get to see him in a main act, but he's so proud of his mum that he doesn't really feel it.

Harry has flowers for all of them, though Nick carries most of the bouquets except for Niall's, which is also the biggest. Louis makes a spectacle of being offended, which allows for Harry and Niall to sneak away to Niall's trailer. 

Simon can deal with Niall not performing in the secondary tent. He has a private show to attend.

“You're amazing,” Harry breathes, when Niall makes love to him for the second time that day. 

“I love you,” Niall replies. 

* 

Niall invites Harry to come watch his show in the secondary tent the next day, where he is one of the main acts and gives the most seductive, daring performance of his life. Harry's jaw is slack for practically the entirety of it. 

They fuck against the door of the trailer that night. 

* 

The fourth day is mostly a practise day, but Harry's there none the less, as well as Nick, though he arrives in the late afternoon, because of his breakfast slot at the radio.   
Harry spends most of his time catching up on his online classes and Niall's never been so grateful for the Circus WiFi as when he's tumbling around with Liam, while Harry's perched on the doorstep of what he's come to think of as their trailer, biting his lips and frowning at the screen of his laptop.

The fourth day is also the day Perrie and her family, as well as several other familiar faces, arrive at the circus. They arrive after dinner and Niall hides a smile against Harry's shoulder when Zayn lifts Perrie in the air and kisses her in the light of the setting sun.   
They have a bit of an announcement, later that night, because Perrie and her family have decided to stay with the circus indefinitely as permanent main performers. Louis and Niall make retching noises at a glowing Zayn, until Liam chases them away. Niall flees into Harry's arms and stands on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear; “He's going to propose to her.” 

Harry's eyes widen comically. “Really?” he asks, endeared. Niall nods, “Yeah, 've seen the ring and everything. Can't be long, now.”

Zayn doesn't, that night, but Niall knows he will. He'd like to say he isn't envious of Zayn, who has, after all these years, finally managed to keep the love of his life at his side. Zayn, who is going to get married to this girl he honestly would've followed to the end of the world, if she hadn't come to him first. 

He is, though. He's green with envy, as says goodbye to Harry, who is going home for the night, at Nick's insistence. He can't help but be terrified. Tomorrow's the fifth day, after all. 

“I'll be back,” Harry vows, “I promise.” He seals it with a kiss and Nick has to phyisically drag him to the car to get him away from Niall. Niall stares down the road, long after the car's disappeared in the dark and startles when a large hand is placed on his shoulder. 

When he turns around, he's face to face with Simon, who smiles at him indulgently.

“It's going to be okay, you know,” he says, “Trust me.”

Niall wishes he could, but he nods his head with a ball of lead in his throat and drags himself back to his trailer with his head held high. He cries into a pillow that smells like Harry. 

Because even if Harry comes back tomorrow, after that their five days are up. They haven't talked about it, but chances are they won't see each other again for a very long time and Niall can't deal with it. He can't loose Harry again, he can't. 

He makes a decision that night, sitting cross legged on his bed with tear stains on his blotchy face. He's going to ask his mum to retire. To retire and settle in this this city and he's going to retire with her. He makes the decision she couldn't, all those years ago with his biological father. He'll go to a normal school – to college. He'll get a normal job to help out his mum on her artists' pension and he'll be with Harry. He's not going to leave him behind again. He can't go another two years without him. 

He cries again, this time for the circus, and his boys and his family. He loves them, he loves them so much, but he knows he loves Harry more – or he's going to. He lives for performing, but he knows he can't live with just letters to remind him of Harry's body against him and Harry's lips on his and Harry's words in his ears and Harry's heart beating next to his. He decides on love that night. 

He'll give it up. He'll give it all up. All of it, for Harry.

* 

Niall wakes up early the next day and notices, for the first time, the continued emptiness of Liam's bed. He frowns at it, but is grateful as ever to Liam for granting him his space. He dresses slowly and then walks over to his mum's trailer. 

“Allright, love,” is what she says, as she strokes his hair and his tears stain her morning gown, “If that's what you want. If you're certain.”

“I'm certain,” Niall sobs, “I love him, mum. I love him so much, I always have. I can't leave him behind again. I can't do that to him.”

“And I can't do that to you,” she whispers, hugging him tightly, “We'll stay, okay? We'll make it work.”

He stays with her for a bit longer, gulps down a cup of tea she forces on him while they talk things over and by the time he walks out of her trailer he's calmed down but feels heavier than he has for days. He's made his decision, though, and he sits down underneath their bush to wait. To wait one final time for Harry to come to him. 

His boys find him first. 

“Hey leprachaun,” Liam teases, as he sits down next to Niall. Niall shoves at him half heartedly, as Zayn quietly settles down on his other side and Louis sprawls out over the wet grass at their feet. They wait together after that, as Zayn smokes his cigarette and announces it's his last. Definitely, this time. Liam arranges silly patterns with the grass that Louis throws at them and leaves that have fallen off the bush. 

Harry arrives late morning, much later than Niall'd expected, but he forgets all about it when he sees Harry. He's been crying, too. It's hard to tell but Niall can see it. His eyes are a shiny kind of green that Niall immediately hates.

Before Niall can jump up and go over to comfort him – to tell him that he needn't cry over him because he's never leaving him again, a shadow falls over the group of lads at the bush. 

It's Simon, again, but this time he has Niall's mum in tow. “I think you'd best come with me, boys,” he says, and Niall almost gives himself whiplash as he turns to look at Harry, who is still too far away and looking at him with a confused expression on his face and Nick's hand on his shoulder. 

“You really should come with us, Nialler,” his mum says, as she gently helps Niall up. Louis, Zayn and Liam follow them as they walk towards Simon's trailer, which is large and covered in pieces of paper and files, as per usual, and they don't all quite fit inside, but the lads wait outside, with the doors open, so they fit. 

Harry reaches out for his hand as soon as they're inside and Niall takes it without hesitation, but tries to ask Harry questions with his eyes. Harry shakes his head with sad eyes and nothing makes sense. 

“What's going on?” Niall says, mostly to Simon, “Listen, if you've got anything against me quittin' then I'm sorry, but it's my decision and - ”

“Quitting?!” Harry exclaims, as he turns to Niall, completely in shock. 

“I'm not going to leave you behind again, Haz,” Niall tells him determinedly, squeezing his hand. 

“You can't just leave the circus! You can't leave your family!” Harry very nearly shouts, as he grabs Niall's other hand, “Not for me!”

“Yes I can and yes I will!” Niall spits back, “I love you and I'm not leavin' you!”

Just as Harry's about to open his mouth to protest when Simon interrupts them, “Nobody's leaving anybody here, calm down!” 

Nick and Niall's mum respectively put their hands on their shoulders in comfort and Niall can feel his blood boil in anger, but also confusion and leftover sadness and he doesn't think it woud be this hard to be in love. 

“Now,” Simon says, and he folds his hands on the desk in front of him, “As I said, nobody's leaving anyone. Harry,” he adresses the green eyed boy, “Niall. Earlier this week I was approached by three very determined boys who told me a very interesting story about how one of my acrobats had fallen in love with a boy from the city.” Niall shuffles around awkwardly, but nods at Simon's prodding gance. “How you met when they were children and lost contact until a few years ago.”

Both of them nod and Simon inclines his head towards Harry, “I've heard your story, albeit secondhand, and I remember the bruises and wounds I treated you for. I'm sorry I didn't notice what they were, as a caretaker, I should have.”

Harry shakes his head, “It's not your fault. You've only ever been kind to me. It was nobody's foult but his.” Niall squeezes his hand and smiles at him, a feeling of pride added to the coctail in his stomach. 

“Even so, I'd like to make it up to you,” Simon continues, with a kind smile, “I've been talking to your guardian this week, after the boys told me about you. He tells me that as long as you follow your online courses and promise not to fall off anything-” Simon pauses to assess their faces, “He'll sign over the guardian papers and allow you to travel with us as part of our cirque.”

Harry's jaw falls open and Niall's own face is a contortion of all the emotions he's been botteling for the past few days, until one of them eventually breaks free. Joy. 

It's pure, unadulterated Joy, which is mirrored on Harry's face as he turns around and catches Niall in his arms. 

Harry's coming with them. _Harry's coming with them!_ Nick is smirking at them behind Harry's back and Niall's pretty sure he hears his mum sniffle, but he's too busy kissing Harry sensless to really notice. 

He doesn't have to leave the circus, he doesn't have to leave Harry. He's getting everything he's ever wanted and it's like the joy inside of him wants to explode out of his chest. 

“You're staying,” he whispers at Harry, before he repeates it louder, “You're staying!”

“I'm staying!” Harry parrots, and then they're laughing. Laughing in a way Niall's never laughed before. It's relief and happiness and gratefulness and fierce, fierce love for this boy in front of him and the boys that tumble through the door the moment they hear the commotion. 

Something of a group hug happens and then Simon's telling them all to calm down and for Louis to get off his desk, please, but Niall can't stop smiling, can't stop holding Harry's hand and can't fully grasp yet that he doesn't ever have to let go. 

Simon continues to talk about how Harry will have to earn his keep in the circus just as anyone else and about positions and money and law stuff and guardianship and Niall completely counts on Liam to tell him all about it later, because he's not listening at all. He lets Simon's voice drone on, just like he does when they're perfoming. Lets it become a steady rhythym in the back of his mind. 

He feels five again, five and like he's walking on his hands and looking at a lovely boy who's the wrong way around, yet exactly right. 

He's looking at the man he's become and he squeezes Harry's hand. He doesn't let go for the rest of the day, except for when Harry says a teary goodbye to Nick, who'd sneakily packed all his things for him. He holds it during dinner and he holds it when they're lying in their trailer. (Their trailer, as Liam's moving in with Louis, who has some free space now that Zayn and Perrie have decided to share a trailer. Sneaky sods, the lot of them) He holds Harry's hand and kisses his face as they talk about when they met when they were four and six – and again when they were sixteen and eightteen. About their now, at eithteen and twenty, about their future – the future they're going to spend together. 

“I love you,” Harry whispers, for the umpteenth time. 

“Welcome to the circus,” Niall whispers back. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Hoo ha, that took a while and some effort but it's done and I'm happy! I hope you are too <3
> 
> Might write a little epilogue if y'all are sweet enough to mama ;)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://hazazaz.tumblr.com/%20)


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